


Exactly One Wedding and Zero Funerals

by nerakrose



Series: datenights in the stitching ward [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Adorable, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Art Student Steve, Asthma, Bisexuality, Canon Disabled Character, Car Accidents, Cute, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Just Get Married Already, Kittens, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Polyamorous Character, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, SO MUCH FLUFF, Serious Injuries, Tattoo Artist Steve, as in steve never gets the serum because there is no serum, fluff to angst rate is 15 to 1, hard of hearing clint, hard of hearing steve, mechanic Bucky, steve is a lil hipster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 08:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2018916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerakrose/pseuds/nerakrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky no longer have dates in the ER but this summer includes a lot more bodily harm than either of them asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exactly One Wedding and Zero Funerals

**Author's Note:**

> At this point I probably owe [palavapeite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/palavapeite/pseuds/palavapeite) and [mrs_jack_turner](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_jack_turner/pseuds/mrs_jack_turner) my firstborn and like, a trillion homemade cakes - for putting up with me and for betaing everything I do, including this fic. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Bucky was sitting on the steps outside the range with Clint and Kate, when Steve pulled up. 

"Would you look at that," Bucky said, grinning happily. 

"What?" Kate asked, but Bucky was already on his feet and zipping up his bike jacket.

Steve quickly removed both glasses and helmet, his hair flurrying all over the place, and then put his glasses back on. "Hey," he said.

"Hi cutiepie," Bucky said, stepping up to kiss him.

"I was aiming for sexy, not cute," Steve told him.

"Oh, you are. Super sexy. This is _never_ going to stop being hot," Bucky said, gesturing at all of Steve and kissed him again. "I just wanted to say cutiepie. Cutiepie."

"Gross," Kate muttered behind him. "Are all adults this gross?"

"Yes," Clint told her. "Especially these adults. Get used to it."

Bucky gave them the finger.

"Hey, Clint," Steve said. "And friend."

Kate and Clint both waved at him.

"Come on, let's go," Bucky said, putting his helmet on. "I'm taking you out. I got tickets for that Art and Civil Rights thing at the Brooklyn Museum you've been talking about."

"Oh." Steve blinked, smile spreading on his face. "You did?"

"Yes. Helmet on, let's go." He nudged him. "You wanted to go, right?"

Steve grinned. "Get on."

***

"No, that doesn't make sense. You didn't even say what kind of dragon it is," Bucky said. "So what if it's a water dragon? Wouldn't that have a bigger chance than a regular fire dragon?"

They were on the sofa, sitting opposite each other with their legs tangled. Steve had his sketch pad resting against one knee, and Bucky was half-heartedly playing wordfeud with Clint on his phone.

"Who said anything about fire dragons being regular?" Steve said, not looking up from his sketch pad, where he was actually sketching something dragon-like.

"Well, most dragons spew fire, so forgive me for assuming. So is it a water dragon then?"

"I don't know, I don't know what kind of dragons live in that area. Could be a rock dragon."

"No, no, no. You don't get to introduce more dragons. There's just one dragon. Fire or water?"

"Just pick one."

"Well." Bucky paused, thinking. "Suppose I'll pick the stronger of the two, which is obviously the fire dragon -"

"Water quells fire, though," Steve pointed out. "So the water dragon has to be stronger by default."

"Not if the fire is so hot it splits the water into hydrogen and oxygen, which is basically, you know. Fuel. For the fire." 

Steve looked up, eyes narrowing at Bucky. 

"I don't make the rules!" Bucky said, holding up his hands. "And these are dragons, so yeah, that fire is white hot and totally turns water into fuel, so. My fire dragon owns your water dragon in five seconds flat."

"I thought you said a water dragon would have a bigger chance again the kraken," Steve said.

"Yes, but we are talking about dragons fighting dragons -"

"Since when is this about dragons fighting dragons?" Steve exclaimed, pausing one more time in his sketching.

"You are adult men," Natasha said, having appeared from nowhere. "Which is why neither of you is going to cry when I take out both your dragons with my genetically engineered flock of unicorns."

Steve and Bucky slowly turned to stare at her.

"Who spew acid which turns everything into solid rock upon contact," Natasha added. She raised an eyebrow at them, managing to look both superior and really fucking annoying at the same time.

"Didn't we have this conversation before?" Bucky asked. "You know, the one where you are not allowed to come here with your completely made up creatures, which _by the way_ is cheating, and -"

"I need your help with my hair," Natasha said, and Bucky shut up.

" _Now_?"

"Now," Natasha said and turned on her heel, going straight for the bathroom.

"Well all right then," Bucky muttered and got up from the sofa. "Come find me in half an hour if I'm not back, chances are Natasha has murdered me and is cutting up my body in the bathtub."

Steve gave him a funny look. "Okay."

About twenty-five minutes later, as Bucky was undoing a braid, Steve slipped into the bathroom and took a seat on the toilet, sketch pad in hand.

"That was the fourth one, Nat, what the hell do you want?"

"I showed you last week!" Natasha said, gesticulating at her head. "I sent you the link from Pinterest!"

Bucky facepalmed. Steve looked on with great interest, then started sketching the two of them.

"You sent me twenty-five different pictures from Pinterest last week," Bucky said. "All of them were fancy braids and hairdos. Forgive me if I didn't immediately know which one I should've paid attention to."

"Well, not the ones that make me look either twelve or like I'm Amish!" Natasha snapped.

Bucky looked like he wanted to cry a little. "Okay," he said, drawing in a deep breath, and seemingly counting to ten in his head. "How about I just do the rose?"

"Not the rose, something different," Natasha immediately said. 

"You do realise I'm not some kind of wizard, right?" Bucky eyed her hair.

"Okay, fine, just look at this." Natasha had her tablet sitting on the counter, playing classical music of some kind at a low volume. She tapped and flicked a few times, until she'd unearthed a tutorial for a complicated looking hairdo involving a billion different braids. "How about this one?"

Bucky took the tablet from her and studied the tutorial. "I think I can do this," he said. "But maybe we should change that part." He pointed at the picture. "That's ugly as fuck."

Natasha rolled her eyes and took the tablet back, then found another set of pictures. "This?"

"What about that picture you said you sent me? I know that's not it," Bucky said, pointing at the screen. "What do you really want?"

Steve wisely held his mouth while Bucky and Natasha seemed to have a stare-off. He finished one sketch, and started another. Eventually Natasha gave and opened her Pinterest profile.

"This one," she said, showing him.

"Nat, that's the rose," Bucky pointed out.

"It's not! It looks completely different."

"No it doesn't."

"It does."

" _Natasha_."

" _James_."

"Do you want me to do it or not?" Bucky gave her a pointed look.

Natasha glanced at the picture, but was clearly wobbling about the answer. 

Bucky took the tablet from her and after a quick google, he found what he was looking for. "How about we do this one? It's always a good look on you and your hair is long enough right now to sustain it."

"It's not a bit overused, you think?" she asked. 

"Nope. It's a classic." Bucky regarded her, then delivered his winning argument: "Besides, you haven't worn that one since Bobbi's birthday party, the one the month before you bought the school. You cut your hair after that."

"Okay. Okay, let's do it," Natasha said, and went to stand in front of the mirror. 

Bucky immediately went to work, partitioning her hair and putting clips in to hold it in place, while he worked on other sections.

About halfway through the hairdo, after Steve had completed five different sketches of the two of them in the bathroom in various poses, he decided to make his presence known.

"Hey, Buck. Can I ask something?"

"Sure," Bucky said around five bobby pins. 

"How come you know how to do braids and stuff?"

"I have sisters," Bucky answered, this time around only three bobby pins. One dropped to the floor and he cursed.

Steve picked up the pin and handed to him. "That's, uh. News. To me," he said.

"Oh." Bucky stopped what he was doing to look at Steve. "I didn't tell you?"

"No."

"Useless," Natasha said, then yelped as Bucky shoved a bobby pin unnecessarily hard in place.

"I have three little sisters," Bucky explained, now back to doing Natasha's hair. "According to them the fact I'm 'half gay' means I've talents for these things, but," he paused, twisting a braid and pinning it in place, "the honest truth is I've had years of practice."

"Your mum didn't do your sisters' hair?" Steve asked.

"Nope, mum died when we were little squirts." Bucky picked up a bunch of more bobby pins and stuck them in between his lips. "Dad didn't even know how to brush hair, so I dealt with it."

"Oh," Steve said. "I'm sorry to hear. You're doing pretty well though." He gestured at Natasha's hair with a pencil. "Looks great so far."

"Yeah, Nat is kind of like the scary big sister I never wanted. The kind who pulls your hair until you give in and then threatens you with more violence."

"I do not," Natasha protested.

"Totally do," Bucky said.

"Where's your family now?" Steve asked. "I mean, you never seem to go visit them, and they haven't been either, so I was wondering..."

Bucky caught his eye in the mirror. "They're in Korea at the moment, stationed at the US army base there, with dad."

"They're all military?" Steve asked.

"Yup. They shipped out three years ago. So, it's been a while."

"How come you never joined the army if your entire family did?" 

"Didn't see the appeal. And my sisters weren't going to either, but... Circumstances, I guess. One's a teacher, though. Littlest one. Well, teacher-to-be. She's only just twenty." Bucky braided the last section and twisted it in place, then fixed it with a couple of pins. "All good. What do you think?"

"It looks good," Steve said. "It really suits you, Natasha."

Natasha turned her head this way and that in front of the mirror. "I like it," she said. "Thank you." She turned around and gave Bucky a smack of a kiss on the mouth.

"You want to Instagram it?" Bucky asked.

"After I've done my makeup," Natasha answered, checking herself in the mirror again.

"So you're happy?" Bucky eyed her warily. "Because you know, I _can_ redo your hair, but you're starting to run a little late - unless you plan on wearing _that_."

"Of course I'm not wearing this, don't be silly," Natasha said just as Steve asked where she was going.

"It's nothing spectacular," Natasha said to Steve, but the look on Bucky's face told a different story.

"Oh, it's only Nat and Clint's anniversary," Bucky said, in answer to Steve's unspoken question. He was smirking ever so slightly.

"It isn't," Natasha said, giving Bucky a quelling look.

"Steve, tell me what the date is, will you?" Bucky said, entering another stare-off with Natasha. This time Bucky was trying not to laugh, while Natasha almost looked like she could kill.

"Tenth of July?"

"There you go," Bucky said, grinning gleefully. "See, Clint and Nat have this thing where they both pretend they don't know it's their anniversary, but they both clean up extra nice for the day and go out on a fancy date in a fancy restaurant and pretend that's the sort of dates they go on _all the time_ -"

"James, do you want to keep your balls?"

"Very much," Bucky said. "Come on, Steve. Let's leave the dangerous Russian alone to make herself beautiful."

***

When Natasha came out of the bedroom half an hour later, Steve and Bucky were in the middle of a heated argument concerning Natasha's acid-spewing unicorns and gremlins. The acid-spewing unicorns were winning, but the gremlins were putting up a good fight.

"All right, James, Instagram me," Natasha said. She was standing in the middle of the living room, dressed in a lovely red dress to match her hair and her makeup made her look even more terrifyingly beautiful than usual.

"Clint's not gonna know what hit him," Steve said, leaning over the back of the sofa. "I'm not sure _I_ know what hit _me_."

Bucky whistled, but didn't move from the safety of the sofa. "You've outdone yourself. Is today extra special?" He grinned. "Is Clint proposing?"

She rolled her eyes. "No."

"Are _you_ proposing?"

" _No_."

"You sure? You look like you could eat a man alive."

"She can eat me alive," Steve said. "I really don't mind."

"Your boyfriend might mind," Natasha told him, but she was smiling. "So, James. Instagram?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bucky said, picking up his phone and walking over to join her. "Put on your most deadly face."

Natasha stuck out her tongue, which Bucky quickly snapped a photo of. She gave him the finger.

"All right, let's get some real ones," he said. 

They spent a couple of minutes taking photos from various angles until Natasha was satisfied, including one really nice one of her hairdo, which Steve had specifically requested for drawing reference.

"Last one," Bucky said and before Natasha could react he'd pulled her close for a selfie, grinning madly and forming a V with the hand that was not holding the phone.

"Loser," Natasha told him, pushing his face away. She smiled, then found her purse. "I'm going now. Behave yourselves, boys." She walked over to Steve, who was still hanging over the back of the sofa, and lifted his chin with her index finger. "Or I might just have to eat you alive."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" Steve stuttered, neck flushing red.

Bucky stared as Natasha just smirked and Steve licked his lips.

"See you later, boys," Natasha said and let herself out.

Steve let himself fall back on the sofa, hands over his face. "Help," he mumbled. 

"You were serious!" Bucky accused, pushing at Steve so he could sit. 

"Are you mad?" Steve asked, removing his hands from his face. 

"Depends, are you planning on cheating on me with my best friend?" Bucky asked, pushing Steve's legs apart and insinuating himself between them. "Because I might get a bit cranky at that."

"Don't be silly," Steve answered, giving him a fond smile. "I wouldn't do that without your express permission."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. 

"I wouldn't," Steve said, more serious this time. "I just, uh. Have a type when it comes to women." He shrugged. "Natasha fits the bill."

"Huh." Bucky regarded him. "And men?" he asked, leaning over Steve. 

"Oh, I don't know," Steve answered, grinning. "Tall, dark and handsome. Absolute puppies." He reached up to curl his fingers around Bucky's neck. "Giant nerds." He pulled him down for a kiss. "Men who don't mind me being in charge."

"Who said you were in charge?" Bucky kissed him again.

"You mean I'm not?" Steve smirked, wrapping his legs around Bucky. "I haven't heard you complain yet. Not last night, or last weekend, or, generally, at any point during the past seven months."

"All right, all right." Bucky chuckled, then kissed him again. "Can't say it doesn't turn me on." He paused, about to say something else, and Steve took the chance to grind his hips upwards. "Okay, okay," Bucky gasped. "Seriously, though."

"What? You mean if I'd cheat on you with Natasha?" Steve shook his head. "No." He stroked his thumb over Bucky's neck. "I just have a weakness for women who could walk all over me, as evidenced by my dating history," he said. "You've met Peggy."

"Yeah." Bucky huffed.

Steve gave him a serious look. "Be honest. Are you really worried about this?"

Bucky let his head drop on Steve's chest. "You told me last month you're poly. It kinda gets a bloke thinking, you know?"

"And you said you don't like sharing," Steve said. "It's okay, you know. You don't have to share me. Right now there's only you, and I wouldn't force you to share if there'd be somebody else, which there isn't."

"Suppose that won't always be the case?" Bucky raised his head. "That's a possibility, right?"

"Yes." Steve sighed. "I can't predict the future. You'd be the first to know, but... I don't know, I don't even really think I want to date other people. I don't really have the stamina, or the time, to have more than one."

"What was all that about Natasha, then?" Bucky murmured. He lowered himself onto Steve, resting his chin on his chest. Steve's hand came up to drift through Bucky's hair.

"I was mostly joking," Steve told him. "She's hot, and she caught me by surprise. Do you honestly think Natasha would even want to go there?"

"If she sees what I see, I can't see why not," Bucky said, smiling. Then: "No, she wouldn't. She's pretty stupid over Clint."

"Mmh." Steve traced his thumb over Bucky's bottom lip. "Are you still worried?"

"Maybe a little. I'm sorry." 

"What can I do to make you feel better?"

"I don't know." The corner of Bucky's mouth lifted. "Maybe sing me that awful Backstreet Boys song I heard you sing in the shower this morning."

Steve groaned. "Oh lord. I should've known you'd hear that."

"You were pretty loud," Bucky said, grinning wide. "So, what's it gonna be?"

"Can I just hum it?"

"No can do. Singing is the only acceptable format." 

Steve his his face in his hands again. "It's a song about _drugs_ ," he said. 

"It's only about drugs a little bit." 

"All right." Steve peered at him. "But you can't laugh at me."

"Deal."

"Can I keep my eyes closed?"

"You can do whatever you want." 

"Okay." Steve sighed, then steeled himself. Eyes closed, he first hummed the approximate tune of the song, then started in on the first couple of lines. 

Bucky couldn't help himself. He didn't laugh, but he was grinning madly, and before Steve could even get to the refrain, he scooted up to kiss his mouth shut. "Stop, stop, or I will actually laugh and I don't want to do that to you." 

"I almost want to call you something mean," Steve muttered, but kissed him back. "But I'm too polite to do it."

"I'm sorry," Bucky said, scooting back down, chin on Steve's chest. He was still smiling.

"Sorry, my ass," Steve shook his head, then looked at Bucky. "We're not finished having this conversation, are we?" 

"I don't know." Bucky cast his eyes down briefly. "I'm sorry. I just… I can't see the sun for you, you know? And it's… a bit disheartening to learn that you don't see me the same way."

"Oh." Steve was quiet. "That's not… entirely… I mean." He frowned. "It's not how I'd put it. It's not a competition, you know?"

"I know it's not a competition. Am I being stupid and irrational about this?" Bucky mumbled. "I don't want to be. I'm just...maybe a little afraid you'll find someone and decide you like them better than you like me."

"Buck," Steve said gently. "You're not being stupid… But I don't know what to tell you to make you stop worrying." He cupped his face. "I have a big heart. There's a lot of room in there. And I don't… I mean, I love everyone differently. There's no better or worse way to love somebody, you know?"

"I know," Bucky said. "You've told me. I'm sorry I'm being a downer about it."

"Hey, that's not how it works." Steve sighed. "Okay, how about this. Full disclosure. If you want it?"

"I… okay. Yeah. Hit me."

"Okay." Steve's fingers went into Bucky's hair again, then curled around his neck. "There's three people in this world that I love very much, and would drop everything for if they needed me to." He squeezed, giving Bucky a small smile. "First one's Peggy. She's… probably someone I'll never stop loving. But we broke up about...five, six years ago, and we haven't been together since, and we never will again. Still, I love her very much." 

"I can't say I'm surprised," Bucky said, quietly. "I've seen how you look at her."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. He drew in a deep breath, then gave a little shrug. "It stopped hurting a while ago. And she's happy, so… it's okay."

"Okay," Bucky said. "And the others?" 

"Sam." 

" _Sam_?!" Bucky blinked. "Okay, that one's a surprise."

Steve huffed. "Well, it's true. We were never together, though. We never even messed around. I don't think he even knows. I hope not." He shook his head. "Sam's always been completely head over heels for Riley, even if it took them a while to figure themselves out. I didn't want to mess with that." He smiled. "So… Sam's a good friend. I'm in the process of getting over him, actually, have been for a while. Kinda like with Peggy."

"But different?" 

"A little different, yeah." Steve squeezed again. "I never got to the stage with Sam where I was… well, madly in love. More like…" He trailed off, pondering. "More like a really solid, giant fucking _crush_ , that turned into this, I don't know. Thing. And this thing is transforming into a different thing, which is more of a friendship type thing, which is pretty good. It hurts less, for one. Unrequited love really fucking sucks." 

Bucky smiled wryly. "Guess you get that a lot?"

"Could be worse." Steve grinned. "I crush on people really easily, but most crushes die out after a couple of weeks. So it's okay."

"Mmhh. So… I almost don't want to ask." Bucky raised an eyebrow. "The third person?" 

"Oh, the third person." Steve smiled softly. "Him, I'm madly in love with. I've actually never had it this bad before." He nudged Bucky to move, to come up and kiss him. "Sometimes when I think about him, it's like I can't breathe." 

"Yeah?" Bucky hovered over Steve's lips, looking him in the eyes. If he was a little scared, he didn't say so, but he had no illusions about Steve not seeing it.

"I'm settling in for the long haul," Steve said. "There's no one I love quite the way I love you." 

" _Oh_."

Steve pulled him close for a soft kiss. "And that's the honest truth." 

"I believe you." Bucky pulled back, frowning. "That wasn't a marriage proposal, was it?"

"No," Steve laughed. "No, trust me, if I'm going to ask you to marry me, you'll _know_."

"Okay, good." He smiled. "So, want to make out?" 

"In a bit. We're not quite done," Steve said. "Because you know, if it makes you uncomfortable when I do stuff like, like what just happened with Natasha, or flirt with other people, I can stop doin-"

"I thought you were just having fun?" Bucky interrupted.

"Well, yes, but it's not fun if somebody's hurting, you know? So, if it bothers you, just say the word and I'll let it go. It's no big deal."

"Uhm. Okay. I suppose?" Bucky blinked. "I… don't know?"

"Think about it," Steve said. "Then tell me. It doesn't have to be right now. Just come to me, okay? Don't ever think you can't talk to me about this stuff." 

"Okay…?" Bucky frowned. "You're really serious about this."

"Yes. Also," Steve added, "I've had bad experiences in the past with people who didn't talk to me, and then seethed in silence, and things got ugly. I don't want things to get ugly with you."

"...now can we make out? Because I'd really, really like to make out with you. Right now." 

Steve gave him a look.

"I'm not evading! I'm just. Really. Into you," Bucky blurted, and when Steve laughed and pulled him close, it was the sweetest thing.

"And then we have to find my glasses," Steve said, half-whispering into Bucky's mouth. "I want to get these contacts out."

"Priorities," Bucky said and kissed him again.

***

Bucky slowly blinked awake, not quite registering why - until another series of loud beeps and buzzing came from his phone. He grabbed it, half blind in the darkness, and peered at it.

_I just finished four weeks' worth of work on my webcomic AND I wrote the script for the next seven pages AND I updated the website_  
 _and I set up a preorder system for signed copies of chapter two_  
 _I also made thumbs for a couple of new things that I won't tell you or the internet what it is yet._  
 _So I think I deserve a reward_  
 _You should come over and fuck me_

_steve_ , Bucky texted, too tired to even care. _its 3am_

 _So it is. I'm sorry!_ Steve texted back. _I mean it though._

_im not taking the subway this time o nite  
not gettin out of bed._

Steve didn't text back, so Bucky dropped the phone and rolled over. He was two seconds from falling asleep again when it rang.

"Steve?" Bucky mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes or look at the phone as he answered.

"Hey," Steve said. He sounded slightly breathless. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Mmmh, 'sokay," Bucky said.

"So, uhm. I was just going to come over, but, I. Ah." Steve paused. "Is it okay if I come over?"

"Wha'?"

"I kinda got ahead of myself," Steve said. "I'm already downstairs and, uh, I figured I should probably ask you before I unlock my bike."

"Oh." Bucky shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "Now?"

"...maybe you should just go back to sleep," Steve said, sounding rueful. "I'm sorry for waking you. I'm all hopped up on redbull and, I just had a really good run tonight with my stuff, kinda lost track of time and everything."

"Uh," Bucky mumbled. "No idea what you just said. Talkin' really fast."

"You know, I should let you go back to sleep," Steve said. "I'm going back upstairs. I'll see you in the morning instead, maybe?"

"Nono, you can come," Bucky said. "You've a key. I'mma...sleep."

"Oookay," Steve said, chuckling. "That kinda beats the purpose, but okay. I'll be there in...about ten minutes, tops."

"Mhhm." Bucky ended the call and rolled over again. 

When Steve showed up, precisely ten minutes later, Bucky was fast asleep again. Steve took the phone out of Bucky's hand and deposited it on the nightstand, then quietly undressed and slipped into bed. Bucky mumbled something as the bed dipped, but Steve shushed him with a kiss and he quieted down. 

Steve slept through the morning and didn't stir until Bucky put a cup of coffee directly under his nose.

***

Bucky finished his apprenticeship and the commandos took him out to celebrate. Steve didn't go because he had a series of paintings to finish for a project in his oil painting class - which he was seriously regretting having taken, but it was an easy credit (hah), and the only other remotely interesting class on offer during the summer.

He was regretting his decision to stay at home even more when Bucky called him, slurring into the phone.

"I'm going to the ER," Bucky said, then giggled madly.

"What?" Steve froze. "What happened?"

"Nothin' - nothing interesting," Bucky told him, then giggled more. Somebody shouted in the background. It sounded like Dum Dum, or possibly Gabe. "This bastard stabbed me with a knife, no big dea-"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve snapped. He put down his paintbrush. To hell with the paintings. "That's not no big deal! I'm coming."

"Nonono, Steve, it's okay, I'm barely even bleeding, I just need a few stitches probably," Bucky told him happily. "Or maybe twenty, I don't know. Hey, hey shut up don't no no don't touch me -" 

"Bucky," Steve said, trying to sound firm. "Which hospital?" 

"I don't know, just the ER," Bucky answered, then vanished. It sounded like he'd dropped his phone. 

"Bucky?" Steve looked around the flat in a slight panic, as if Bucky would materialise out of thin air if he just looked hard enough. Sam, flattened on the sofa with Riley, looked over. Steve shrugged helplessly.

"Steve? Are you there?" somebody on the other end asked, and Steve rushed to tell him that yes, he was indeed there. "This is Gabe Jones. Your man passed out because he's a fucking idiot. We're on our way to the ER, want to meet us there?"

Not five seconds later Steve had ceased to give a fuck about his oil paintings. "I'm heading to the ER," he told Sam and Riley. "Bucky got himself into trouble," he added.

"Have fun," Sam told him. Steve gave him the finger. 

He found half the commandos in the waiting room.

"He's getting stitched up," Jim told him. "Gabe's with him."

"Oh," Steve breathed, and sat down next to him. "How bad is it?" 

"Nasty gash on his arm," Jim said, mimicking the stab on his own arm. "Another in the thigh and one in the gut."

Steve winced. "What the fuck did he do?"

Jim and Dernier exchanged a look. "It wasn't anything he did, really," Jim said. 

"It was more what he didn't do," Dernier added.

"What." Steve stared at them. 

Dum Dum shook his head. "He ran into a nasty type he's had run-ins with before, and when he refused to rise to the shit...well." Dum Dum shrugged. "He gave as good as he got, though."

"Though not with a _knife_ ," Steve said, through gritted teeth.

"Ah, no. Our boy used his fists, good old and proper," Dum Dum told him, grinning. "He got him good, but, ah. There's only so much you can do against an armed man."

Steve took his glasses off to rub his eyes. "Fucking hell." 

"He'll be fine," Jim told him. "He wasn't spilling his guts on the floor or anything."

"That's very reassuring." Steve shot him a dirty look.

"He'll be fine," Dum Dum repeated.

"Yeah, he only lost like, two litres of blood," Dernier said, wiggling his eyes at Steve. 

"Fuck you," Steve said. 

"He didn't really," Dernier told him. "He looks worse than he is."

Steve sighed. "Where's Monty?" 

"Talking to the police," Dum Dum answered. "Bastard's going to jail if we can help it."

"Damn right," Jim and Dernier said in unison.

They only had to wait half an hour for Bucky to be released. Gabe had him by the arm.

"Steeeve!" Bucky grinned, face lit up in delight, causing his split lip to start bleeding again. He stumbled over his own feet as he tried to rush to Steve, but Gabe caught him.

"Jesus, look at you," Steve said, already out of his seat, grabbing both Bucky's arms to steady him. His left bicep was bandaged and a little bloody, his right thigh was bandaged as well, under his mutilated and bloody jeans, and he had another bandage just over his right hipbone. His t-shirt, which was blue before or possibly pink - Steve wasn't quite sure - was now a deep, dark maroon-ish colour around that area. "Where's your jacket?"

"I don't know," Bucky said, still grinning. "Kiss, Steve."

"No," Steve said. "Don't look at me like that. I'm taking you home. You fit to ride a bike?" 

"Only if you kiss me," Bucky said, looking put out. 

"I want you to know," Steve said evenly, "that I want to yell at you for almost getting yourself killed but I'm not yelling at you and you should be fucking grateful."

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him. "So you should kiss me," he said. 

"Steve," Gabe interjected, handing him a sheaf of papers and a blister pack of pills. "For this genius here," he said. 

"Thank you." Steve tucked it all into the inside pocket of his bike jacket, then turned back to Bucky. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Maaaybeee," Bucky said, leaning close. Leering. "I wanna kiss."

"You can have a kiss when we're home," Steve said. "And that's final."

"You boys okay?" Dum Dum asked, patting Steve's shoulder heavily. "We can help you lug him home, if you'd like."

"Go away," Bucky told him. 

"We'll be fine," Steve said. "But thanks anyway." 

The commandos said their goodbyes, and left Steve and Bucky to have a stare-off in the ER lobby. 

"I'm not mad at you," Steve told him. "But you gave me a scare and I'm still a little freaked out. And I don't want to kiss you while you're still half drunk. Okay?" 

"Okay," Bucky acquiesced. "Come here." He pulled Steve into a tight hug, Steve's arms immediately wrapping around Bucky's waist. "I'm sorry," he said into Steve's hair. "Shit just happens." 

"Yeah," Steve said, relaxing a little. "My place or yours?" 

"Yours," Bucky said promptly. "I'm not in the mood for a Natasha lecture. She'll kill me."

"And she won't kill you harder tomorrow?"

Bucky shrugged.

"Come on then." Steve untangled himself. "The bike's parked out front. Let's get you home." 

He helped Bucky into his leathers, taking care not to disturb his stitches and bandages. Steve was lacing up his boots for him, Bucky being too tired and uncoordinated at this point to do it himself - not to mention Steve totally noticed that wince as he'd tried to bend forward to reach his laces.

"You're not going to fall off, are you?" he asked. "Because I will tie you to me if I have to."

"I won't fall off," Bucky assured him. "I might fall asleep though."

Steve gave him a sharp look.

"Joking!" Bucky held up his hands. "Just joking," he said. "Seriously."

"That wasn't funny." Steve stood up, laces all done, and handed Bucky his helmet. "Come on then. Let's go home." 

Sam and Riley were still up when Steve and Bucky made it back.

"What the hell happened to you?" Sam demanded, eyeing Bucky up and down.

"Knife," Bucky answered tiredly, possibly leaning a bit too heavily on Steve. "And the asshole who had it." 

"You okay?" Riley asked.

"Been better." Bucky grimaced as Steve pulled his bike jacket off. "Can't I just sleep in this stuff? I can't deal." 

"You'll thank me in the morning," Steve said. 

"You sure you should be home?" Sam was looking at Bucky's t-shirt. "You look pretty messed up, man."

"Yeah, whatever." Bucky shrugged. "Steeeve," he whined, leaning on the doorframe as Steve unlaced his boots and pulled them off, one after the other. 

"Shut up or I'll tattle on you to Natasha," Steve said. "Sam, do me a favour? I've got some papers and pills and stuff in my jacket pocket. Look at it and see if there's anything we need to do right away?" 

"Probably just pain meds," Bucky argued. "I don't need pain meds, I need sleep and a kiss. Kiss first, then sleep."

Sam was up and rooting in Steve's jacket in no time, unearthing the pills and the papers from the doctor. "Looks like you got lucky," he said, looking them over. "Shallow gut wound, nothing to write home about -"

"I deflected that like a boss," Bucky grinned, but he was so tired that it came across rather hysteric.

"Evidently not," Steve muttered. 

"Anyway," Sam said, looking up. "You're good until the morning. I'll drop this off in your room?"

"Thank you," Steve said, now having successfully wrangled Bucky out of his bike leathers completely. "Bathroom, now."

Steve decided that because Bucky's clothes were torn, bloody and unsalvageable, he could just as well cut them off and spare them both the trouble. In some places they even stuck to Bucky's skin where the blood had dried.

They washed up quietly, then Steve shepherded Bucky to his bedroom. 

"Steve," Bucky said, exhausted and wrung out. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Steve undress and get ready to join him. "I really need you right now."

"I'm sorry," Steve sighed, rubbing his face. He went to stand in front of him, hands cupping Bucky's face. "I'm sorry. I owe you like ten kisses." He kissed his forehead, then his nose and his lips.

"Not about that," Bucky said. His arms came up to wrap loosely around Steve, his face pressed against him. "I just need you." He drew in a shaky breath.

Steve let him stay like that for a little while, holding him close. "Get in," he told him, voice soft. "I'll be with you in a sec." 

Bucky crawled into bed slowly, taking a while to get comfortable. He eventually ended up lying on his right side, to avoid pressing down on the stitches in his left arm, and watched Steve puttering about the room. He went out briefly, then came back with paints and brushes that he stowed away in and on his desk, then went out _again_ and came back with two glasses of water. 

"Stop fretting," Bucky eventually said.

"Yeah yeah." Steve looked around the room, then at his watch, then at Bucky, then at his desk. 

"Seriously now," Bucky said.

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "Okay." He took off his glasses and hearing aids and crawled in behind Bucky, taking care not to jostle him. He pressed himself against Bucky's back, arm around him and his nose against his neck. "Like this? This what you need?" he asked softly.

Bucky nodded, putting his hand over Steve's. He turned so Steve could see him. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"I know." Steve squeezed him. "I'm glad you're all right. Mostly all right. Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

Steve reached back to get the light. Bucky was asleep within minutes, but it took Steve a while to find the same peace.

***

They were woken rather crudely by Sam banging on their door.

"Steve! Barnes! Get up!" Sam yelled. "The cops are here to see you!"

Bucky shook Steve, who groaned. 

"I _heard_ him," he grunted. "It's you they want. You go."

"But, Steve," Bucky pleaded sleepily, leaning over to speak directly into his ear. "You wouldn't let me face the wolves alone, would you?"

"I so would," Steve told him, trying to push him away.

Bucky didn't move.

Sam banged on the door again. "Get the fuck up, man!" he yelled. "I'll hose you out of bed if I fucking have to!"

"Coming!" Bucky yelled back. He sat up, rubbing his face and grimacing at the pull at the stitches in his side, bruises in places he didn't know were bruised, and the horrible taste in his mouth. He briefly considered clothes, but when he realised it was seven-fucking-thirty in the morning, he decided that the cops would just have to deal with him in his finest. They'd probably seen uglier underwear than this, anyway.

Two cops were sitting at the kitchen table, mugs of steaming coffee in front of them.

"I'm not talking until I've had coffee," Bucky told them, making a beeline for the coffee machine. 

"Is Steve getting up?" Sam asked him, wonderful, wonderful breakfast-making Sam. 

Bucky stole a piece of bacon off the bacon plate, then took his coffee with him to the kitchen table. "Probably not," he said and slid onto the bench. He eyed the cops up and down. "You're too fucking early."

"Sorry," the cop on the left said. "Nate wanted in early. I'm Detective Wilson," he extended his hand and Bucky shook it, "this is Nate. Summers! Detective Summers." 

Detective Summers grunted, but did not offer his hand, only tightened his hold on his mug. Bucky suspected it wasn't Detective Summers who'd wanted in early.

"Mh." Bucky grunted back, trying to sip his coffee without scalding his tongue.

Steve came into the kitchen and went straight over to Bucky. He'd put on a t-shirt, which was more than could be said for Bucky, and an old pair of glasses with paint fingerprints on the rims. "Morning," he said to Bucky, pressing close.

"Don't steal my -" Bucky started, but Steve had already appropriated his mug. "Thief." 

Sam put down a second mug of coffee in front of them, which Steve ignored as he was apparently very happy with the one he'd stolen from Bucky. Bucky sighed and took the second mug, and Sam refilled the coffee machine.

"Mr. Barnes?" Detective Wilson said, clearing his throat in the most unsubtle manner Bucky had ever seen. He had a little black notebook and pen in front of him. "We wanted to get your version of what happened last night."

"Ugh," Bucky said. "What's to tell? Fucker came at me with a knife, we fought, I knocked him out."

"Clarifying a few things here," Detective Wilson said, flipping a page in the notebook. "The attacker is Brock Rumlow?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd he attack you?"

"Because he's a violent homophobic asshole," Bucky told him. "It's not the first time he's attacked me either. Just the first time he came at me with something other than his fists." He grimaced, then took a long sip from his coffee. 

Detective Wilson and Summers shared a look. 

"Tell us about last night," Summers said.

Bucky sighed, then leaned back against the wall. Steve moved with him. "I was out with my boys celebrating, I finished my apprenticeship so, it was this big thing. We went out early, so we were pretty sloshed - well, I was, Gabe was designated driver, and the others thought it more fun to pour stuff in me than themselves." Bucky took another sip of his coffee, then moved his arm around Steve's shoulders. "Well, Rumlow and his buddies show up. Don't do anything at first, so I reckon the coast is pretty clear. He mostly goes straight for the throat, you know? He doesn't wait around, just strikes out as soon as an opportunity presents itself." He clenched his fist

"Go on," Detective Wilson said. "What next?"

"I went to take a piss and when I turned around, he was there. Started talking crap, so I told him to shut up. I didn't see the knife until I was going to move past him." Bucky gestured at the bandage on his side. "He almost got me, too. And then we fought. I'm pretty sure I broke his nose. I hope I broke his nose. I managed to take the knife from him after he got me in the thigh. I threw it somewhere. Then slammed him into a sink, or something, I don't know. He collapsed and I got the fuck out of there."

"Thank you," Detective Wilson said. "You said he was talking crap. What did he say to you?" 

"Oh you know," Bucky said, bitterly. "Your usual run of homophobic slurs. He was just trying to get a rise out of me. I was out to have a good time. Not to get into fights. So. I didn't rise to the shit. Not that time."

"What did he say?" Detective Wilson repeated. "I'm sorry, but we need it for the record."

"We'll also be able to classify this as a hate crime," Detective Summers added.

"Fine." Bucky drained his mug and set it down harshly. "He called me a faggot, pansy, fairy, nancy boy, fag, 'fucking pillow-biter' and at one point, 'a pathetic excuse for a human'."

Steve went still beside him, then squeezed Bucky's knee. Bucky found his hand under the table and squeezed it back, then laced their fingers together.

Detective Wilson dutifully wrote all that down. "And what was your exact response to these...uh, words."

"I told him to shut up and leave me alone. Repeatedly. I also said I wasn't looking for trouble." Bucky gave a little shrug. "I think he was looking for it, or he'd have let me go. Maybe. He's never let me go, ever, but some of the other times I've risen to his taunts, so. I don't know."

"Thank you," Detective Wilson said, looking up. "Do you want to press charges?"

"Hell yes. Dude attacked me with a fucking knife. You don't do that unless you plan on fucking killing someone," Bucky said. "I'm fucking pressing charges."

"You have history with this guy," Detective Summers said. "Can you give us a brief overview?"

"Uhm, well…" Bucky frowned. He glanced at Steve, who didn't say a word, just sipped his coffee slowly and squeezed his hand. He leaned into Bucky. "About two years ago, I hit on him in a bar and found out the hard way that was not the right person to hit on," he said.

"You hit on him?" Steve asked, looking up in surprise.

"I thought he was pretty hot before I found out what a raging fucking monster he is," Bucky told him, then continued. "There was no way I could've known. It's not like people walk around with stamps on their foreheads that say 'I like to beat up queer people for fun'."

Sam had produced three big stacks of pancakes in the time they'd been talking. "You guys want breakfast?" he asked.

Detective Wilson and Summers exchanged looks that clearly said 'please Nate please please' and 'no'.

"There's enough for everybody," Sam said.

"Yes please," Detective Wilson said, beaming at him. 

Detective Summers gave him a dirty look, but did not otherwise move a muscle. Bucky looked down to hide his smile. Detective Summers looked a little like he wanted to strangle his partner, but accepted the course of events as Sam started putting down plates of pancakes and bacon and fruit.

"Anyway," Bucky said, watching the food move closer with the look of a starving man, "since then I've run into Rumlow a handful of times. Had to go to the ER one time before, he'd nearly crushed my windpipe. Swallowing was torture for a week. Some other times I probably should've gone to the ER, but didn't." 

Riley appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, hobbling in on a crutch, and stopped short at the sight of them. "What's…?" 

Sam only pointed at the vacant bench seat at the end of the table and set down a jug of orange juice.

"They're here for me," Bucky told him. "Oh, and there's food."

"I...see that." Riley sat, leaning the crutch against the wall. "I didn't know we had guests, is all." 

"Did you sleep through Sam's yelling?" Steve asked him. "Because he woke _me_ up, and I'm supposed to be the deaf person in this household."

Riley shrugged. "Slept through an air raid once." 

"We'll be leaving shortly," Detective Summers told him, then introduced himself and his partner. 

"Nice to meet you," Riley said, then looked between them and Bucky, then Steve and Sam. He shook his head, then apparently decided food was the best course of action and dug in.

"So, was that all?" Bucky asked, having already filled his plate with food.

"Just about. We'll need you to come down to the station later to give a formal statement, and once this goes to court you'll have to testify," Detective Wilson told him.

"Okay." Bucky popped a blueberry in his mouth. "I'm cool with that." 

"Just one more thing," Detective Summers said. "You two," he gestured at Steve and Bucky. "You two together?"

"Yeah." Bucky smiled, then looked at Steve, who was smiling right back. 

"What's your name?" Detective Summers asked.

"Steve Rogers."

"How old are you, son?" 

Everyone around the table, including Detective Wilson, froze. Steve blinked, then put down his fork.

"I'm twenty-eight," Steve told him, somewhat pointedly.

"You got any ID to prove it?" 

"What the hell," Bucky growled, leaning across the table. "You think - you think he's a _minor_?"

"It's okay, Buck," Steve said, getting up. He nudged Bucky to lean back against the wall. "It's not the first time I've been mistaken for a minor. It hasn't happened in a while, though. I'll be back in a sec." Steve left.

"Seriously?" Bucky glared at Detective Summers. "You think I go around screwing minors?"

"Nate," Detective Wilson hissed, but his partner ignored him.

Sam cleared his throat. "I'm more concerned with the fact you have the nerve to even ask," he told Detective Summers. He put his hand on Riley's shoulder, and Riley moved into the corner of the nook so Sam could sit next to him. "And just to make this clear. You come here for a statement from the _victim_ , of a goddamn hate crime to boot, and then you jump at the chance to arrest him for daring to be in a relationship? In _my_ house."

"Just a precaution," Detective Summers said.

Sam glowered at him. "You're on my permanent shit list." 

"Nate," Detective Wilson repeated, hissing a little louder, but he was ignored all the same.

Steve came back, wallet in hand. "There you go." He thrust it at Detective Summers. "If that's not enough I can grab you my birth certificate." He went to sit with Bucky again, who wasted no time in putting his arm around Steve and glaring at Detective Summers some more. 

The detective opened Steve's wallet and looked at everything - his driver's license, library card, health insurance card, social security card, credit and debit cards, state-issued ID card, motor insurance card, student ID and even his business cards. Plural, because Steve had cards for his tattooing, his comic thing _and_ his art, graphic and traditional. "Thank you," he eventually said, handing the wallet back to Steve. "Everything seems to be in order." 

"That wasn't awkward at all, Nate," Detective Wilson hissed. If he thought he was being quiet, he was dead wrong.

"Tell me, if Steve had really been a minor, would you have arrested me?" Bucky challenged.

"Don't answer that question," Detective Wilson told his partner, and rose out of his chair. He very unsubtly tugged on his partner's arm. "Come on, we're leaving." He snagged up the half eaten pancake on his plate and rolled it up, then ushered his partner out of the kitchen. 

Detective Wilson was back two seconds later. He was munching on what was left of his pancake. "I am so, so sorry," he said, all flustered. "By the way, your pancakes are amazing." The last part was directed at Sam. "We'll see ourselves out."

The four of them leaned over to look through the doorway, where they glimpsed the two detectives in the living room having a semi-silent discussion seemingly consisting mainly of hissing sounds. The front door opened and clicked shut.

Steve was the first to laugh. "Last time somebody thought I was a minor was on my twenty-fifth birthday," he said. "Of course, there were loads of minors around with fake IDs trying to get into trouble, but wow."

Bucky glared at him. "It's not funny."

"No, but if I don't laugh I might punch something, and I'd rather not," Steve told him.

"Point," Riley said and pushed the maple syrup across the table.

***

Natasha ripped Bucky a new one and then personally escorted him to the hospital when it was time to take his stitches out. Gabe put Bucky on paint and polishing duty for three weeks, refusing to let him pick up so much as a wrench until he was healed up.

Steve, Natasha, Clint, all of the commandos, and a bunch of Steve's friends - all of them wearing various queer insignia - went with Bucky to court when it was time for him to testify.

When Rumlow was sentenced to six months in jail, Steve sagged with relief.

***

Steve let himself into Bucky's flat only to find that Bucky wasn't there. Natasha was there, however, curled up on the sofa with a hot water bottle and watching a shark documentary.

"Where's Bucky?" he asked, sniffling a little and trying not to. He got out of his bike leathers slowly, as if every single move was causing him pain.

"I sent him out for pads," Natasha answered. She looked up. "You look like hell. Are you sick?"

"I've a cold," Steve said and curled up on the other end of the sofa. He dug his inhaler out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table, then dragged the blanket off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around himself. 

"In _August_?" 

"These things just happen to me," Steve told her. "Where's Clint?"

"Clint, clever man that he is, is out fishing with his brother all weekend," Natasha said. She rooted around for her phone, then called someone. "James? You still in the - are you kidding me? How could they run out of - no, not that brand. That brand sucks. Ha ha. Yeah that's fine. Five packs of that, don't forget. Hang on for a second." She put her palm over the receiver end. "Steve. Kleenex?"

"Sure," Steve said. He sniffled again.

"Anything else you want?" 

"I dunno. Is he bringing chocolate back? Some tea maybe. I don't know." Steve pulled the blanket tighter.

"Okay." Natasha returned to the phone. "James? You still there? Ok, listen. Write this down. Suck it up, big boy - okay. Kleenex, lemon tea, cold meds, like, twice as much chocolate, some soup - I don't know, whatever kind you find. Don't get the canned crap, get something nice from the deli. Did I forget to tell you to get ice cream and strawberries earlier? Oh, good. More of that too. Okay. See you in a bit."

"You're a saint," Steve told her.

"I'm everything but," Natasha said. She reached over to touch his forehead, then his cheeks, which were flushed red. "You feel a little feverish. Hmm."

"Probably because I am a little feverish," Steve said. "You should probably stay away from me."

"I'm immune to colds. I'm Russian." 

Steve giggled.

"All right, loverboy. I see you don't believe me." Natasha smirked. "But I'll have you know I was grown in a soviet laboratory. I'm engineered to withstand disease, capitalism and the common case of stupid."

"You know, I actually believe you," Steve told her. "It would explain so much." 

"Can you keep a secret?" 

"Sure? What's it about?"

"Bobbi and I might be expanding the school," Natasha said. "We had a meeting with Danny about it last week. Nothing's definite yet!" She lifted a finger. "So don't say anything."

"Oh. That's cool. Who's Danny?" 

"Random billionaire. He's our Kung Fu instructor," she said. "Voluntary. I don't pay billionaires to teach ten-year-olds Kung Fu." 

Steve laughed, then coughed. "Fair enough. Is he funding the expansion then?" 

"No, nothing like that. But he's a businessman, so Bobbi and I roped him into giving us some tips and advice. We'll probably do a fundraiser and use his name to get some people to come throw money at us." She smiled. "In September the school turns five. So that's a good occasion to throw a big party, and it's a good time to start looking for something bigger...I'd like to hire my people on full time, but we need the space for that. And I need to keep Jess. She's my best part timer and I can't afford to lose her, but she'll move on to something better if I can't give her more work. Basically, if everybody else has to go, Jess stays." 

"Mmhh." Steve nodded. "I like Jess. Have you found new rooms? Or a building or whatever?"

"Maybe," Natasha answered evasively. "It's all top secret until further notice."

Steve gave her a look. "So why are you telling me?"

"Because there might be an opportunity in there for you too, and maybe some of your buddies from art school," she told him. "Paid work."

"I'm listening."

"Bobbi and I both agree that our new place should have art on the walls. Murals and stuff. We'll probably revamp the website too." She raised an eyebrow. "That something you want in on?"

"Totally," Steve said, sniffling. "Yeah. What's the timeline?"

Natasha shrugged. "Don't know yet. I'll let you know as soon as I know more."

Steve nodded. "Fair enough."

The front door opened, and Bucky walked in laden with grocery bags. "You better fucking appreciate me," he grumbled, then noticed Steve. "Oh, hey Steve. You're early."

"Came for cuddles," Steve said.

Bucky did a doubletake at the sound of Steve's voice. "You're sick." 

"I have a _cold_ ," Steve told him.

"In _August_?"

Steve sighed. "Yes. Hazard of being me. Come cuddle me." 

"Gimme a moment," Bucky said. "Need to put all this stuff away. Nat, catch." He threw her a pack of pads.

She caught the pack easily, and set it down on the coffee table. "Thank you." 

"I guess this explains the revised shopping list," Bucky said and carried the bags into the kitchen to start putting everything away. "Is there anything you want right away?"

"Chocolate," Steve said. 

"Ice cream," Natasha said.

"I changed my mind," Steve said. "I want ice cream." 

Bucky stared at both of them. "Okay." 

Natasha disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, taking with her the pack of pads and four others like it from one of the grocery bags. She then refilled her hot water bottle while Bucky finished with the groceries and dished out ice cream. 

"I've got a documentary on," Natasha told them. "It's the last one in the queue, so I vote we watch Sharknado after."

"No," Steve said.

"Yes," Natasha insisted.

"I'm not taking sides," Bucky said. He thrust a bowl of ice cream at Natasha.

"That automatically defaults you to my side," Natasha told him.

Bucky shook his head, but didn't argue. Instead he just took Steve's bowl of ice cream to him.

" _And_ " you're cuddling both of us," Natasha said before he could get as far as sitting down.

"I'm not a fucking octopus," Bucky complained. "I can't cuddle both of you. I'm cuddling Steve."

"Okay, but that means Sharknado."

"No," Steve said. "No Sharknado."

"There's no winning this war," Bucky told him. "Accept defeat. Budge up." 

"But it's terrible," Steve said, and moved so Bucky could slot in behind him. He leaned back against Bucky, the two of them shifting until they were both comfortable. "It's a terrible, terrible movie." 

"It's an _awesome_ movie," Natasha corrected him. "Suck it up. I'm in charge."

Steve grumbled, but cradled his bowl of ice cream close. He shot her a dirty look. 

Natasha curled up on the other end of the sofa with her own bowl and the hot water bottle. There were about twenty minutes left of the documentary, and a tiger shark was on the screen.

The ice cream irritated Steve's throat even more and made him cough a lot, which in turn triggered an asthma attack. When he'd come down from it, Bucky made him tea and brought kleenex and chocolate to the coffee table. Natasha never complained, but she paused Netflix every hour to go to the bathroom.

"Every hour? Seriously?" Steve said at what was probably the fourth time. Sharknado was long over, and they'd moved on to Jaws. It was paused at a particularly tense moment, except it looked really stupid in the exact frame it'd frozen on.

"I've been blessed with a particularly violent uterus," Natasha snapped. "And -"

"Kindly don't rip my boyfriend's head off," Bucky said. "We can smash the patriarchy later, I promise."

"Ugh," Natasha said. She closed the bathroom door a little louder than usual.

"I'm making dinner," Bucky called out, untangling himself from Steve. He opened the fridge and started pulling out things. "Want some soup?"

"Yeah, sure," Steve answered.

"Pizza!" Natasha called from the bathroom. 

"Oh, I want pizza too," Steve said. "And garlic sticks. With lots of garlic. Extra garlic."

Bucky put the soup from the deli back into the fridge and grabbed the take out menu instead.

***

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me to comic con?" Steve asked. He was sitting in front of his laptop, SAI open on the screen, and drawing tablet hooked to the laptop. He made a sweeping stroke with his pen on the tablet and then hit ctrl+z. "I'm getting a hotel room and everything."

"It's in New York. What do you need a hotel room for?" Bucky glanced up from the popular science magazine he was reading. "That seems a little overkill."

"I thought it would be nice not to have to do the commute," Steve explained. He frowned at the screen and enlarged what he was working on. "Besides, I'm taking so much stuff to my table and I can't carry it on the bike so I'm getting a cab and I need somewhere to store it when I'm not at the table, and it just makes logistics a lot easier."

"I don't know," Bucky said. "Does it mean we can shag as loud as we want and not worry about our roommates hearing?"

Steve looked over, grin on his face. "Will it win you over if I say yes?"

"Maybe," Bucky answered with a smirk.

"Apart from that," Steve continued, "it would mean a lot to me if you were there. And I could use your help, to be completely honest. It'll be hectic and having somebody else there..." 

Bucky lowered the magazine entirely and just looked at him. "You're nervous about this."

"Yeah." Steve rubbed the back of his neck. "It's my first time in the Artists' Alley. And I've been working on my portfolio so I can leave copies with editors and stuff, and there's a couple of panels I want to go to and it's starting to get...daunting."

"It's not until October," Bucky said. "You've got two months."

"Yeah, but I've been planning for a while. And you know I've been taking on extra work at the tattoo parlour to pay for it all. _And_ if you're coming, we need to get you a pass before it sells out."

"Steve." Bucky sat up and pulled Steve's chair closer, until Steve was only inches away. "Kiss me."

"Buck..." Steve sighed. Bucky waited, and eventually Steve leaned in and kissed him, soft and warm. He relaxed, exhaling softly as he pulled back.

"I'll be there," Bucky said, looking him in the eyes. "We'll split the costs on the hotel room. I'll be with you at the table and whenever you need me to. This is a career thing, right?"

Steve nodded.

"Okay." Bucky kissed him again. "Anything you need me to do."

"Mostly I'll just want you to carry boxes," Steve said. "And if it gets really busy at the table, I'll make you handle transactions while I talk to people."

"How busy do you expect it to get?"

"I don't know." Steve shrugged. "I mean, people on the Internet like my stuff. The signed copies of chapter two sold out pretty fast, and I've also sold out of regular copies. It was a small batch though. And last time I did commissions I had to set up a waiting list." 

"So...?"

"So I don't know, but it could be busy? I'm trying not to get my hopes up." Steve gave him a small smile. "I'm going to be a bit distracted the next while, and this is me saying I'm sorry in advance. I want to finish chapter three before the con. Well, _well before_ the con so I can get it to the printers. And I need to send chapters one and two to the printers too, for second printings, and I need to select prints to bring and maybe make one or two con exclusive prints and ..." Steve trailed off. "Sorry."

Bucky smiled. "I love you, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Steve smiled back. 

"Maybe you should bring your tattoo machine and offer people tattoos of your comics stuff," Bucky suggested, which made Steve shake his head in fear.

"Oh no, no way. No. _No_ ," Steve protested. "There's probably rules against that sort of thing too."

Bucky laughed. "Well then, then it shouldn't be so hard." He kissed him again. "You think you can leave your next update be for a bit while you join me on this really nice bed here?"

"Mmh, it can probably wait a bit." Steve caught Bucky's bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, then kissed him.

There was a knock on the door frame. "Guys?"

They broke apart, turning towards the door. They'd left it open, and Sam and Riley were standing in the doorway, smiling like the sun shone out their arses or something, and looking a little red-eyed.

"Hey," Bucky said. 

"What's up?" Steve asked, then frowned. "Have you been crying?"

Sam just grinned. "Maybe," he said. "What do you think about being my best man?"

"Wha-" Steve's eyes widened. "Oh!" He flung himself at Sam, then Riley, then back at Sam, squeezing him hard. "Yes, yes of course, oh my god, Sam," Steve babbled, then stopped abruptly. "You should know that I'm doing my very best not to scream." 

"Deep breaths, Steve," Bucky said, coming up behind him, hand on the small of his back. "Congrats," he said to Sam and Riley, reaching over Steve to grab each of them in a half-hug. "When's the wedding?"

"About that," Riley said, chuckling and giving Sam the fondest look Bucky'd seen yet. "Are you free next weekend?"

"Next...you're kidding," Steve said, looking between the two of them.

"No," Sam told him. "Next Saturday at the City Clerk's Office. Garden party at Riley's mum's after."

"No point in waiting," Riley added.

"Jesus," Steve said and then he was hugging them again. "I'm so happy for you guys. I think I could cry. I'm going to cry."

"Shit, Steve," Sam said and then he was sniffling and then Riley was, and suddenly all three of them were crying.

Bucky rubbed circles into Steve's back. "Nevermind me, guys," he said. "I'm just going to stand here awkwardly while you have your moment."

"Shut up," Steve said, but he extracted himself and wiped his eyes. "That was unexpected. But great. Wow."

"Yeah," Sam said, smiling stupidly at Riley. "We've got other people to tell, so..." He gestured over his shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah," Steve said. "Go, tell people. Organise your party and everything. I need to find something to wear." He put his glasses back on.

They exchanged silly grins and then Sam and Riley left. Bucky closed the door after them.

"Are you okay?" he asked Steve, who'd thrown himself onto the bed and was staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah, I think so," Steve answered. He drew in a deep breath. "A little overwhelmed."

Bucky crawled up next to him, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at Steve. "Are you _really_ okay?" He put his hand on Steve's stomach.

Steve closed his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you told me a little story a few weeks ago," Bucky said. "Maybe I'm a little worried about you."

"I told you I was getting over him," Steve murmured. 

"I know." Bucky leaned down to kiss his nose. "And if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. But if you need to be upset for a bit, or, I don't know, want to be alone or something..."

"You're a little ridiculous sometimes," Steve told him, opening his eyes again. The corner of his mouth lifted into a soft, crooked smile. "I'm okay. Really."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, definitely," Steve said and pulled him down for a kiss, hot and open mouthed and a little desperate. "God, I want to make babies with you," he said into the kiss. "Do people say that anymore? Oh, I don't care. I'm saying it."

Bucky laughed into his mouth, kissing him back. "Yeah okay, let's make babies," he said, giddiness bubbling in him. 

Steve was already pulling at Bucky's t-shirt, so he sat up to take it off. The shirt went onto the floor and Bucky's mouth went back on Steve's. His hands worked Steve's jeans open while Steve undid the buttons on his shirt.

It was a little dirty, a little fast, Bucky mouthing his way down Steve's chest and belly, shoving his jeans down enough to close his mouth around his cock. Steve bit his hand to keep quiet, the other tight in Bucky's hair. He came hard and fast, bucking up and gasping, and Bucky swallowed him down. 

"Wanna do you," Steve said, still breathing hard and hauling Bucky back up by his hair. He crashed their mouths together, holding him close for a brief moment. "Now, now," he demanded, pushing Bucky over, and crawling over him.

"Okay, yeah," was Bucky's only response and then Steve's hands and mouth were on him and Bucky turned his face against a pillow. "Steve," he groaned, gasped, then bit into the pillow. He came with a low, hoarse cry, and Steve spit into a glass half-full of water he'd left by the bed earlier. 

Steve caught Bucky in another kiss, then laid down next to him. Neither of them bothered getting dressed again, as it were, for a little while. 

"Maybe I am a little upset," Steve admitted, once they'd done up their jeans, Bucky had put his t-shirt back on, and they'd settled back on the bed for a lazy cuddle. "But I'm also really happy for him."

"I know." Bucky nuzzled his neck, pressing little kisses into it.

"And I'm going to be okay," Steve said, turning to face him. 

"Yeah, you are," Bucky said and kissed him. "I need to get my tattoo finished," he then said. "My arm. If I'm going to be standing next to you at comic con, I gotta look cool."

Steve laughed, happy and beautiful, and Bucky kissed him again.

***

The music in VALHALLA was loud and Steve was focusing all his energy and attention on finishing an elaborate blackwork sleeve on a bearded guy in plaid.

When Bucky wasn't watching Steve work, he was looking through Loki's portfolio and occasionally shooting him a question or comment.

"This one actually looks _shiny_ ," Bucky said, pointing at a tattoo of a submarine on somebody's back. "How?"

Loki leaned over to look. "Glossy paper," he said. "And a trick of the light."

"Hmm."

"I'm not actually a magician," Loki told him. "Flip to page forty-two, I think you'll like those. That technique would get you the best possible result for your arm."

Bucky flipped until he got to the page, then examined the photos closely. "Those look nice." He traced a finger over one of the photos. "I like this one. It looks kind of matte? Vintage?"

Loki smirked. "Oh yes. Looks like it's been proper banged up and worn, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bucky said, looking up. "That'd be an interesting look."

"Next page has the same, but in gold-slash-brass instead of silver-slash-steel."

Bucky looked, but immediately made a face. "Ah, no."

"Not an autumn are you?" Loki commented airily. "No, you do look rather wintery." He stood up. "Come along, I want to show you one of these on real skin."

"What, you have a tattooed pig stashed out back?"

"Nothing so crude," Loki said. "I tattooed myself. I'm not going to drop my pants in the shop, however, so we're going out back."

"You tattooed yourself?" Bucky asked as he followed him into the back room.

"All the cool kids are doing it," Loki said snidely, but then explained: "If you're not willing to tattoo yourself then you shouldn't tattoo other people, is my opinion."

"Huh." Bucky shrugged. "I suppose that's fair enough. So, show me what you've got. Unless it's on your junk, then definitely _don't_ show me."

"Very funny." Loki kicked off his flip-flops and peeled himself out of his jeans. "Each one is different," he said, lifting up his right leg and supporting it on a chair. On his lower leg was a chain winding from his ankle up to his knee. 

Bucky moved closer to look. "The links are supposed to be different metals?"

"Yes. Ignore this one, that's an early one. These ones up here are the ones you should focus on." Loki pointed at one near his knee. "Battered metal, vintage, whatever you want to call it. This is what it looks like."

"Looks nice. How old is it?"

"22 months," Loki said. "There will be colour variation if we do it on your arm because of your skin, you must realise," he continued. "Although I think it would add to the charm, not detract from it."

"Yeah, I..." Bucky glanced at his arm. He was wearing a t-shirt, so most of the scar showed. "I suppose it would look cooler like that? Like it was on purpose?"

"Look," Loki said, putting his leg down and looking Bucky in the eye. "It will always look like a cover up. Nobody will look at that arm and not see what's going on underneath the tattoo. It'll mask it, for sure. But it won't go away and it will always be visible." 

Bucky rubbed his arm. "I suppose," he said, reluctant.

"I don't mean to discourage you," Loki continued. "Tattoos can be excellent to hide things on one's body, for various reasons. But," he said, now pulling his jeans back on, "if you ask me, tattoos are about transformation more than anything. Even if it's just a simple little butterfly on your shoulder."

"What are you saying?" Bucky eyed him suspiciously. 

"I'm not saying anything so much as suggesting it," Loki said. "I can do the tattoo. It'll look nice. But it won't cover up what you've got. What I can do is, I take what you've got and transform it into something else, make it work with me, make it work with the ink." He paused. "What I'm saying is, if you're looking for a cover up, you won't be happy with the end result. I can try, but it won't work the way you'd want it to."

"Okay. I've got to think about this," Bucky said and turned abruptly, going back to the shop.

Steve was putting the finishing touches on the sleeve, and Sif had changed the music to something less deafening. Bucky kicked his legs up and watched Steve work, ignoring Loki when he came back into the shop.

A couple of minutes was all it took and then Steve was finished, explaining aftercare and letting the customer review his work. Bucky watched them, Steve's delighted smile and the customer's satisfied one, watched Steve cover his arm in Saran Wrap and give him a small pamphlet Bucky knew had instructions in it. Once the customer had left, Bucky joined him, seating himself on the customer chair.

"He was happy?" 

"Mmh," Steve said, tidying up the workspace and disposing of the needles he'd used. He changed his gloves and set up a fresh needle. "I'll be with you in a few, just gotta do this one thing first."

"Do what?" Bucky asked, watching as Steve picked out a small bottle of red ink. He tipped a few drops of it into a little plastic dish and then dipped the needle in it.

"This," Steve said, and took the needle and red ink to his right forearm, to a small spot just below the bend of his elbow between two stylised black eagles. In three minutes he'd produced a little red star, no bigger than the nail of his thumb. He had other stars like it scattered over his arms, varying in size and colour; filled in and outlined, red, blue or black as well as a single green one on his left elbow. "Pretty cool, isn't it?" he asked, showing Bucky.

Bucky blinked. "Yeah. What... Why?"

"I couldn't resist," Steve told him, and put a bandaid over the tattoo. He tidied up again. "I've been itching for some new ink for a while, and I worked on that guy for _four_ hours." He grinned. "I'm all good now. Well, for a while."

"Oh. Well..." Bucky smiled back. "So, are you free to go? You did say you wanted to get a new dress shirt for the wedding."

"Yes! Thor's sorting out the cleaning for me today." Steve hopped off his chair and discarded the gloves. "Let's go."

An hour and a half later Steve had picked out four shirts and two pairs of trousers, and was looking at another shirt.

"Maybe this one? I can wear this one with a tie." He held it against himself. "Or a bow tie maybe."

"Yeah," Bucky said. "I liked the one before too."

"Too blue." Steve frowned at it. "It's blue, isn't it?"

"It's blue. And I don't think so," Bucky told him. "It's all right. It's not distracting."

"Hmm." 

Bucky leaned against the rack, blocking Steve from the rest of it. "I like the blue one. I also like the white one and the other white one and the black one and the yellow one."

"Yellow's good for a wedding, right?"

"So I've heard," Bucky answered. "But I ought to warn you that if you're going to wear black slacks and a black tie with it, you'll look like some kind of bee. Which is okay, if that's the aesthetic you're going for."

Steve gave him a look. "Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not making fun of you," Bucky said. "But we came here to get one shirt, and now you have five. And I don't recall trousers being on the list either."

"I suddenly remembered that I don't own a nice pair of slacks," Steve began, and then shot Bucky a dirty look when he laughed. "Seriously. I had a pair but I ruined them at Peggy's wedding and never got another pair after that because I didn't figure I needed one for another while."

"When was Peggy's wedding?" 

"Four years ago?" Steve muttered. "Don't say a word."

"I'm not. I was just imagining you in your skinny black jeans. Which, you know, you could totally wear. Maybe with that white shirt and a bow tie." He indicated the second white shirt Steve had picked out. "I'm a big fan of those jeans. And every other pair of skinny jeans you own. Including the ones you're wearing."

"Even the white ones?" 

"Even the white ones." Bucky gave him a soft smile. "You're fretting, you know?"

Steve sighed. "I know. But the wedding is tomorrow! And it's important and I want to be on point, and, you know, be the best best man."

"I get it." Bucky took the clothes from Steve. "How about we stop looking for options and go to the changing rooms? Come on."

"What are you wearing?" Steve asked, following him. "You haven't picked out anything."

"I have a dress shirt," Bucky told him. "Besides, it's an informal gig. Garden parties don't really call for suits."

"Well, it _is_ Sam and Riley we're talking about. Suppose we'd be fine in jeans and t-shirts if we wanted to," Steve said, picking out a vacant changing room. "Here, give me the shirts. No, ditch the yellow one."

"And these?" Bucky held up the trousers.

"Give me everything," Steve said and took the trousers and the yellow shirt off him as well. He pulled the curtain shut.

"I don't even get to watch you change?"

"I'll get naked for you later to make up for it," Steve told him. 

"All right." Bucky leaned against the wooden panel separating Steve's changing room from the next one. "I spoke to Loki about my sleeve."

"Yeah? Is he going to do it then?"

"I don't know. Said I'd think about it." 

"He's good." Steve pulled the curtain aside. "How's the blue look?"

Bucky looked him up and down. "It looks like a blue shirt."

"Is the colour okay?" Steve asked. "The fit is nice, but I don't know about the colour."

"Well, it does match your eyes," Bucky said. "I don't know what else to say. Do you like it?"

Steve narrowed his eyes at him. "That's a no-go, then." He closed the curtain again.

"I didn't say I didn't like it!" Bucky said loudly.

"But you didn't look like you appreciated it either!" Steve shot back. 

"It's just a shirt," Bucky muttered, dragging his hand through his hair. "Anyway," he added. "Loki started talking about transformations and stuff."

"Did he give you the spiel about the transformative powers of tattoos, self-acceptance and body positivity?" Steve asked.

"Eh, not in those exact words, I don't think."

"He's right, you know." Steve pulled the curtain aside again. 

"Bee," Bucky said. "But it's a really nice colour on you."

"Suppose I wore it with my red bow tie instead of the black tie?" Steve asked.

"Why are you asking _me_? I don't have fashion sense."

"You're right." Steve disappeared behind the curtain again. "It'll have to be one of the white ones."

"What about the black shirt?"

"Already ditched it. It'll just make me look ill or like a scene kid."

"Do scene kids even exist anymore?" 

"I don't know," Steve answered. "But I'm not going to be the person who brings that trend back."

"Mh." Bucky peered through the crack in the curtain. "So you think I should let Loki do my sleeve?"

"What'd he say to you?"

"He said it'd be impossible to cover up."

"Yeah, that's true. You could cover your arm with black ink and it still wouldn't cover up your scar," Steve said. "The skin's too uneven and textured for that sort of thing."

"I know." Bucky sighed. "I guess I'd been hoping too much that it would just vanish under the ink."

"I'm sorry to shatter that hope," Steve said, pulling the curtain aside. "White shirt number one."

"Are those stripes?" Bucky touched the fabric. There were thin silky strips in the cotton that caught the light as the fabric moved.

"Yes. Too flashy?" Steve looked down at himself. "I thought they were subtle."

"No, they're great. I like it. It looks good on you."

"You think everything looks good on me."

"I think you look good naked," Bucky told him with a leer. 

Steve closed the curtain in his face. "Think about it," he said.

It took Bucky half a minute to realise Steve was talking about his tattoo. "I am," he said. "It's not a terrible idea. And there's some cool styles to choose from."

"In my professional opinion, I think the vintage one would be great. I've seen some really cool results with that one." 

"And in your personal opinion?" Bucky asked.

"In my personal opinion, I think you should think about it and make the decision that's best for you," Steve said, pulling the curtain aside. He'd put on the other white shirt. This one was nice and fitted, tight across his chest. "It's a big decision to make."

"And that's definitely the shirt you should get," Bucky told him, pulling him closer by the hips. 

Steve smiled. "All right." He got on tiptoes to give him a brief kiss. "That's it settled." He stepped back and closed the curtain. "And stop sneaking looks."

"You can't fault me for wanting to," Bucky said. "I could look at you all day and not get tired."

"You do know I only keep you around for the sweet talk, right?"

"Have I ever told you how your smile could power the sun?" 

"Keep talking." Steve came out of the changing room, fully dressed and the white shirt draped over his arm.

"Weren't you going to get fancy pants too?"

"Screw fancy pants. I'm done with this store. I need to go home and fret about tomorrow and then maybe for you to shag me into next week."

Bucky whistled. "I see no fault in this plan."

***

When Steve realised Sam and Riley would be wearing their dress uniforms, he had a major freak out and Bucky had to talk him out of finding the nearest tux rental on the grounds that he had to be at the City Clerk's Office in _forty minutes_.

"I'm nervous," Steve confessed on the steps outside the Office.

"You've got it easy, you're not the one getting married," Bucky told him. "Why don't you go and see if the guys are all right? Check for cold feet and everything."

"They're not having cold feet," Steve argued. "Have you met them?"

"I still think you should check. I'll be where I'm supposed to be." Bucky gestured. "See you in about ten minutes?"

Steve looked at the door, then back at Bucky, drawing in a deep breath.

"You'll be okay. You know what to say and do," Bucky told him, then gave him a brief kiss. "Besides, you look amazing."

"Yeah," Steve breathed. "Yeah, okay. Thank you." Another deep breath. "See you in a bit." He left Bucky on the steps and went to find Sam and Riley.

They were just inside, waiting for their turn (and Steve, as it turned out). Sam was helping Riley with his trousers; the pinned up left leg had fallen down and now wouldn't stay in place.

"Let me help with that," Steve said, swiftly extracting a spare safety pin from his wallet.

"Glad you could make it," Riley said, leaning on Sam as Steve pinned up the pant leg. "We were starting to worry. Thought you might finally have crashed on that bike of yours."

"I'm not late," Steve protested. "I thought your parents would be here?" 

"Oh, they are," Sam said. "They're in the bathroom because _both_ our mums started crying. Dad's talking sense into them, they'll be back in a bit."

Riley smiled and took his crutch back from Sam. "There they are," he said under his breath. "You ready, Steve?"

"Uh, yeah, totally ready," Steve said. "Sam?"

"Couldn't be more ready," he said and stole a quick kiss from Riley. They shared a smile and then turned to greet their parents.

Sam's mum squished Steve, and when they'd all said their hellos and Sam's dad had successfully prevented another premature outburst of tears, Sam and Riley led them into the office.

It all happened so quickly that Steve didn't have time to be properly nervous about anything, and then Sam's dad was taking pictures and their mums were crying again. Steve also caught Sam hiding a tear.

"Hey," Steve said to him, pulling him aside from the throng. "I'm really happy for you. I know how important this is to you, and it's important to me too and, I'm just so happy for you, and -"

"Steve, are we having a moment?" Sam asked, smiling fondly. "Because I'm all out of tears."

"I, yeah," Steve said. "I just wanted you to know. That I'm glad. That you and Riley made it, that you're both happy, I..." Steve trailed off, sniffling. "Sorry, I'm having a little trouble controlling my emotions."

Sam pulled him into a tight hug. "I'm really glad you're here, Steve. I'm glad you were part of this," he said. "Now, promise me I'll get to return the favour?"

"Yeah," Steve told him. "I promise. If...well." He pulled back and wiped at his eyes. "You know."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"He's, ah," Steve looked down. "Just outside."

"Wait, you're telling me you brought him all the way here and then left him outside on the steps?" Sam crossed his arms.

"You specifically requested that only I and your parents attended!" Steve said. "So... We were going to ride together to the party anyway, and I didn't want to loop back to pick him up before heading out there, so it made sense! It's your thing and I didn't want to mess it up."

"Go get him," Sam said. "I can't believe you left him outside like a dog."

"I didn't," Steve protested, but Sam only shook his head.

"He's sticking around, isn't he?"

"I think so?"

Sam gave him a look.

"I'm pretty sure, yes," Steve sighed. "Well, next time you get married I won't leave him on the steps, deal?"

"Get out of here." Sam pushed him towards the door.

The garden party was a smallish affair; Sam's sister and parents were there, his brother having been unable to make it. Riley's siblings had come down for the day, and then a handful or two of friends. Most were old army buds, except for Steve and his plus one, and a few of their shared friends.

To Steve's great relief Sam and Riley shucked the dress uniforms for something less stuffy and more comfortable for the party. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and instantly felt more comfortable.

***

Bucky, hastily dressed in his bike leathers, opened the front door only to find Steve just reaching the landing. "No," he whispered and shook his head wildly. "Turn around." He looked over his shoulder, but there was no change in the situation inside. He quickly shut the door behind him.

"What's going on?" Steve looked at him oddly. He was carrying a small grocery bag with what looked like a bottle of wine and hot food containers from the deli.

"Natasha is having a crisis." Bucky grimaced. "I..." He ran his hand through his hair. "She came home and she was just, I don't even know - she was _livid_. And then she just started crying! And she wouldn't talk to me or let me touch her and suddenly Bobbi and Jess showed up, and..." He trailed off. "Can we go to yours instead?"

"I've been kicked out for the evening," Steve told him. "We can go to the coffee shop." 

"Yeah, yeah okay," Bucky said and walked him back downstairs. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I guess. What happened?"

"I'm not sure. She was supposed to be at Clint's tonight, but she came back early, making no sense, and then... You know, the scariest part is that our flat is currently populated by women who have at some point slept with Clint."

Steve stopped. "What?"

"Yeah. Oh, you didn't know about Jess? Well, that happened." Bucky nudged him to keep moving.

"And... Natasha is best friends with women who have slept with her boyfriend?"

"Bobbi was actually married to him for a while," Bucky said. "Though neither Clint nor Bobbi acknowledge it much."

"I'm confused."

"That makes two of us," Bucky said. "I should probably call Clint, find out what just happened..."

They'd made it downstairs. "Call him, I'll wait." Steve started unlocking the bike and packing the groceries away.

Clint answered on first dial. "What the fuck happened?" Bucky asked him, not even bothering with a hello. "What?"

Steve gave him a concerned look.

"What do you mean she's just hanging out in your flat? What's a teenager doing -" Bucky frowned. "What are you - _did you sleep with her_? Then why is Nat upstairs crying her heart out?" he near yelled. "DID YOU CHEAT ON HER. DON'T LIE TO ME OR I WILL RIP YOUR THROAT OUT."

Steve winced. He leaned back against the motorcycle, watching Bucky.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Clint - no, I heard you. How the fuck did that even happen?" Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "People, _Natasha_ doesn't get this upset over a stupid misunderstanding, Clint. Look, I want to believe you, but you have a history of cheating and Natasha is pretty fucking upset. It's not looking good for you." He paused, listening. "What? I was supposed to have a nice evening in with Steve - fine, I'll ask."

"What?" Steve frowned.

"Clint wants us to come over. What do you say?" Bucky asked, annoyed.

"I don't know -"

"Steve says no, we're not coming," Bucky instantly said into the phone.

"Wait," Steve interjected. "We can go."

"You're not serious," Bucky said, eyebrows rising. 

Steve shrugged. "We might as well. I wasn't anticipating sitting in a coffee shop all evening. Let's just go."

Bucky stared at him. "Okay," he sighed. "Clint, we're coming over. Yeah don't thank me yet, I'm still not sure I believe you."

They were at Clint's in fifteen minutes. Steve brought the grocery bag with them up to Clint's flat and Bucky knocked, perhaps a little more violently than strictly necessary.

Clint answered the door, red eyed and scruffy looking. "Come on in," he said. "This is Kate." He gestured at the girl sitting on his sofa. "Kate, this is Steve. You know Bucky."

"What's she still doing here?" Bucky asked, turning on Clint. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry," the girl - Kate - said. She was sniffling. "I messed everything up, didn't I?"

"All right," Steve said, pushing Bucky into the flat firmly and gave Clint a stern glare. "I'm going to heat some of this food I brought and then you two," he pointed at Clint and Kate, "are going to tell us what the fuck is going on."

"Yeah okay," Clint said meekly. He shut the door behind them. 

"Sit down," Steve ordered him, and Clint went to sit on the sofa with Kate. "Buck, kitchen with me."

"You know, if I weren't so fucking annoyed at everything right now -" Bucky started, but Steve interrupted him.

"You'd want to make out like teenagers, I know," Steve said. "Help me with this - this goes in the microwave, this one's fine as is." He pulled containers out of the grocery bag, handing the biggest one to Bucky.

Bucky looked over his shoulder to see what Clint and Kate were doing.

"Are they stewing?" Steve asked.

"Mmh."

"Let them." He started opening cupboards and pulling out plates and glasses as he found them. Three wine glasses and one regular water glass. "I assume you're under legal drinking age," he said loudly.

"Yeah," Kate answered.

"And I'm withholding _your_ wine privileges until further notice," Steve continued.

"Okay," Clint said.

The microwave dinged and Bucky took the container out. "You are really hot, though," he said quietly.

"Later," Steve told him. "Let's try to get this mess sorted so we can get on with our evening."

They brought the food to the coffee table because Clint didn't own a dinner table. He had cushions on the floor for extra guests rather than chairs, so that's where Steve and Bucky sat.

"Eat," Steve said. "And then talk."

Kate barely touched the food on her plate, and Clint didn't eat much either, and Bucky ended up polishing off their leftovers.

"So," he said eventually, pouring himself more wine. Steve was still on his first glass.

"Spill," Steve added.

"I didn't cheat on Nat," Clint said. 

Steve turned to Kate.

"That's gross," she said. "He's like, older than my dad."

"I'm not older than your dad," Clint said, resigned. "I'm old enough to be your dad, that's a different thing."

"It's just as gross," she pointed out.

"Why are you here?" Steve asked her. 

"I'm her archery instructor," Clint started, but shut up when he saw the look on Steve's face. 

"I hang out here sometimes," Kate told them. "It's nice here. I, I don't like to go home sometimes. So I come here and Clint makes coffee and I mess with his DVR and then I go home or to America's place." 

"And today?" Steve asked.

"I borrowed his shower -"

Steve and Bucky both looked sharply at Clint.

"It's not what you think!"

"It's not looking good," Bucky said.

"I borrowed his shower because I hadn't been home for three days and I couldn't shower at America's place because her mums would've sent me home!" Kate burst out, lip wobbling. "I didn't sleep with him. That's gross. And," she added, defiantly, "America is my _girlfriend_ , so I wouldn't have anyway!"

"Jesus," Steve said, steeling himself. "So what happened? Did Natasha come over and see you in a towel or something?"

She shook her head in reply, and then just looked at her hands. They were folded in her lap.

"No," Clint said. "Kate was still in the shower when Nat came over. I didn't think anything of it because... Well, because there wasn't anything to cover up, you know? It was just Kate. But Nat thought..." He drew in a deep breath. "Look, Nat and I have had some problems lately, so I don't blame her for thinking...the wrong thing. We fought, we both said some shitty things to each other, and then Kate came out of the shower - _dressed_ , by the way - and a switch flipped in her brain when she saw who it was. She left and she hasn't responded to any of my calls or texts."

"I'm sorry," Kate told him. "I didn't want to get you in trouble." She wiped her eyes. "I really like Natasha. She's great. I'm sorry I ruined it for you."

"That's not your fault, kid," Clint told her. "Anything I messed up with Nat I did all on my own."

Bucky, who'd been quiet, took this as his cue to speak out. "Yes, and you're going to _fix_ it. I've never seen her this upset before."

"How upset is she?" Clint asked.

"Bobbi and Jess are with her," Bucky told him. "She was crying when I left."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I'm not impressed," Bucky said. "You better pray she forgives you or she might cut your dick off."

Clint just nodded.

"What about you, kid?" Steve asked. "Do you need a ride somewhere?"

She shook her head. "My car's parked outside. I'm good."

"Where will you go?"

"Home, probably." She shrugged. "Or maybe I can stay with Billy for the night. His parents are usually nice about putting me up when things get crap."

Steve regarded her for a while. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah." 

"Okay." Steve stood up. "Then I think you should go. It's getting a little late for you to be out. I'll walk you to your car."

"You?" she asked, sceptical.

Steve only crossed his arms over his chest and gave her an unimpressed look.

"Okay," she said, wiping her eyes one last time, then got up. Steve walked with her to the front door. "Goodnight!" she called out. "Suppose I'll see you at the range," she added and Clint nodded his assent. "I'll, uh, try to not get you in trouble again."

"Go _home_ , Katie-Kate," he told her. "I'm sure your parents are worried about you."

Kate didn't answer that. Steve walked with her, closing the door behind them.

"Now be honest with me," Bucky said, soon as the door was closed, "because she's _underage_ and if you _did_ sleep with her -"

"I didn't," Clint cut him off.

"How old is she exactly?"

"Sixteen," Cint told him. "I really didn't sleep with her. Do I look like I want to? Jesus." He rubbed his face. "Even if I didn't risk Nat castrating me, I... Nat's everything to me, you know?" He looked up, wild-eyed. "I'm a fucking screw-up, but even I wouldn't do _that_."

Bucky sighed. "Okay, I believe you. But it's not me you need to convince, you know that?"

"Yeah."

"And if Nat never forgives you, then I honestly don't blame her."

"I know," Clint said, miserable.

Steve came back up and joined Bucky on the cushions. He poured Clint some wine and gave Bucky what was left in his own glass. "So," he said. "Why does Kate hang out here, of all places?"

Clint shrugged. "Home problems. I don't know what, she doesn't actually tell me. She just comes over and mocks my fashion sense and drinks all my coffee. Sometimes she comes over just to borrow a bow and then comes back with it later once she's figured out that she can't use it properly because the size and poundage isn't right for her."

"So you're what, like the cool uncle or something?" Bucky asked.

"If you asked her she would say I'm very uncool," Clint answered. "I don't know, man. She's a teenager. Fuck if I know what's going on in her head." He shrugged. "She's harmless so I put up with it because I figure it's better she hangs out here for a few hours every week instead of getting into trouble on the streets."

"Did Natasha know about this?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, she did. It wasn't a problem before; she called Kate my accidental teenager. She thought it was funny." Clint sighed and picked up his wineglass. "Then we got problems. We were trying to work them out, talk about things and stuff, it was going so-so." He put the glass down again, rubbing his face. "And then today happened. I don't know what to do. I was losing her before. I've probably lost her now."

"It's not the first time you two have had problems," Bucky said.

"I know, but I'm not so sure we can fix it this time," Clint said. "It's all such a mess." He drew in a shaky breath. "I'm going to try to talk to her tomorrow. It's no use tonight."

"You're right," Bucky told him, not unkindly. 

"I know," Clint said miserably.

"Well," Steve said slowly. "Now that we've made sure you're not a statutory rapist -"

"Oh god." Clint made a strangled noise.

"- I think I'd like to go back to the evening I was meant to have," Steve said. 

"Yeah, you should do that," Clint said. "I'm sorry."

"Get some sleep," Bucky said. "I'll talk to you later."

When they made it back to the flat, Natasha was still up, Bobbi curled up on the sofa with her, watching something on the TV with the sound muted. Jess had already left, it looked like.

"Hey, Nat," Bucky said in greeting. He and Steve were moving slowly, as if they were expecting to meet a predator.

"Hey," Natasha answered and Bucky relaxed.

"How're you feeling?"

She shrugged. Bobbi was watching them both carefully.

"Okay," Bucky said. "Steve and I are going to turn in." He approached the sofa. "Look, if you need me -"

"No, it's okay," she said. "I'm sorry about before."

Bucky leaned down to kiss her forehead. "We'll talk in the morning?"

"Yeah," she said. "G'night."

"Goodnight."

They closed the bedroom door behind them quietly.

"So," Steve said, already pulling his t-shirt off. "I suppose it's safe to assume that tonight is also not going to _end_ the way I wanted it to?"

"Depends, how quiet can you be?" Bucky asked, but there was no promise behind it. "I'm actually beat." He sat on the edge of the bed, watching Steve undress and doing nothing about his own clothes.

"Yeah," Steve agreed. He sat next to Bucky, bumping their shoulders together. "So much for that quiet night in followed by loud kinky sex?" 

"Hush," Bucky said, turning to kiss his temple. "Let's just go to bed."

***

The following morning Bucky was woken up by loud noises. He rolled over in the dark, trying to get back to sleep, but Steve touched him, drawing his attention.

"Wha-?"

"Shh," Steve said, and pointed at the door. Bucky noticed he'd already put his hearing aids on, which meant he'd been awake for a while.

The noises turned out to be Natasha and Clint yelling and possibly crying.

"Great," Bucky muttered. He glanced at the clock, it was exactly two minutes until his alarm was supposed to go off. "Did they wake you?" he asked Steve.

"No," Steve whispered. "Went to take a piss."

The argument Clint and Natasha were having got louder.

"Great," Bucky muttered again.

His alarm blared off, loud and obnoxious, and he reached over to turn it off. The silence in the flat was like a blessing, and then a door slammed and the argument resumed, though rather more muffled.

"Sounds like they took it to Natasha's bedroom," Bucky told Steve, rolling over again to face him. "Want breakfast?"

"Early or late shift?" Steve asked him.

"Early," Bucky said. "And I'm on opening duty, so I've got to be there at seven."

Steve contemplated this. "How about we skip breakfast? I'll drive you." He let his fingers trail down Bucky's chest and stomach, stopping short of the waistband of his boxers. "We can pick up something on the go."

Bucky's smile grew into a little smirk. "You propositioning me, Rogers?" 

"That depends, Barnes," Steve said, answering smirk on his lips. "Is it working?"

"Needs a little more," Bucky said, and Steve crawled on top of him.

"Ready to be seduced by my morning breath and greasy hair?" Steve ground his hips against Bucky's.

"Hell yes," Bucky answered, sliding his hands over Steve's ass. He squeezed. 

Steve leaned down to kiss him, nudging his tongue into Bucky's mouth. He tasted gross - they both did - like old wine and rotten socks, but Bucky kissed him deeper. "I was half-expecting a pick up line," Steve said into his mouth, his hips rolling slowly.

"I don't need a pick up line," Bucky answered. "I've already got you in my bed, humping my cock." 

"I'm not _humping_." Steve snortgiggled, pressing down harder. "Come on. Give me a line. Your tackiest."

"Okay," Bucky said, pushing down Steve's waistband, then his own, to allow their cocks to rub together without fabric in the way. "So, tell me cutiepie, are you from Tennessee?"

"No, why?" Steve asked with a little gasp. There was a smile playing on his lips, as if he knew the next part.

"Because you're the only ten I see," Bucky finished, grinning. 

Steve laughed, then kissed him again. "You're terrible," he said. 

"Mmh," Bucky answered, too caught up in Steve's body to properly form words. They moved together slowly, lazily, in no particular rush to get too close just yet. Bucky pushed the covers away when it got too hot under them. "I've another one you'll like," he said eventually.

"Go on." Steve was getting a little breathless.

"Did I ever tell you," Bucky said, squeezing his ass, "that I'm an astronaut? And," he continued, trailing his fingers over Steve's crack, "my next missions is Uranus."

"Jesus," Steve said. "We don't have time-" he groaned, faltering a little.

"You sure?" Bucky kneaded his ass. 

"Yeah," Steve answered. "Later." He kissed him, grinding a little harder now, moaning into his mouth.

"Mmhokay," Bucky mumbled, rolling his hips up to meet Steve. "Want to eat you out. Take you apart," he gasped. 

"Yesyes _yes_ ," Steve gasped. "Want you to. Later." 

Bucky wrapped his hand around both their cocks, jerking them off and trying not to moan too loudly.

"Come on, come on, Buck," Steve said into his mouth, in between silencing him with kisses and tongue and short little breaths. 

They moved together, hard and frantic and sharing their breaths and litanies, until they were both spent and shivering. Bucky wiped his hand on the sheets.

"You've used the astronaut line on me before," Steve said, mild accusation in his voice. "More than once."

"You can't fault me. It usually works," Bucky told him, pulling him in for a kiss.

"Ugh, you need to brush your teeth," Steve said, pushing his face away. "You're gross."

"Yeah, so are you." Bucky chased his mouth for another kiss. "Come on, let's go get washed up and get out of here." 

"Do we have time for a shower?" 

"Nope," Bucky said cheerfully and got out of bed. He opened the door, peering out. The flat was empty, save for the noises coming from behind Natasha's closed bedroom door. "Coast's clear."

Steve grumbled all the way to the bathroom, stopping only when Bucky handed him a warm washcloth. "My hair's greasy," he complained. "And I've class and work all day."

"So shower tonight," Bucky said around his toothbrush. "With me."

"Doesn't fix my hair problem," Steve said, throwing the washcloth and his boxers into Bucky's overflowing laundry hamper. 

"Nobody will notice." 

"Ugh," Steve said. He squeezed toothpaste onto his toothbrush, then stuck it in his mouth and started brushing. He leaned closer to the mirror, inspecting his hair. He squinted at his reflection.

"Looks fine," Bucky told him, nudging him aside. He spit in the sink and pointed his toothbrush at Steve's hair. "As the only person in this room who doesn't need glasses, I declare your hair to be just fine."

Steve levelled a look at him, so Bucky kissed the side of his mouth, toothpaste foam and all. 

"Could've been worse," he said. "You could've had jizz in your hair."

"Sometimes I swear you're fifteen and not thirty," Steve said. "You're a caveman."

Bucky pinched his ass.

***

"Do you think I need to get a banner?"

"Banner?"

"For comic con," Steve clarified. "For my table."

"I don't know?" Bucky looked away from the documentary he was watching. "Is that a thing people do?"

"Yeah, most people do. Come over here and tell me if this looks okay?" Steve stepped back from his easel. "I don't know what to think of it."

Bucky paused Netflix and got up to see what it was Steve was painting. "What is it?"

"You can't tell?" Steve's face fell.

"No, no, I can tell. I'm just not sure what it is I'm seeing," Bucky said. "Is that a giant impressionist painting of a cunt?"

" _No_ ," Steve said and threw his paintbrush into the jar violently. "I fucking give up. I hate oil painting. I _hate_ it. I'm never going to be working with oil painting anyway, so what's the point?"

"You can give it a name like, I don't know. Twat. Or vajayjay. You could even go for cream pie." Bucky grinned. "Exhibit it and become instantly famous."

"That's not really the sort of fame I want," Steve sighed. "It's not a vagina. It's a landscape."

Bucky squinted at the painting. "I'm not seeing it."

Steve handed him the reference photo he'd been working off. "Landscape," he repeated.

"Yeah, okay," Bucky said. "You picked weird skin coloured mountains of an odd shape to do a painting of and _didn't_ think it'd come out looking like a vagina?"

"It's an assignment," Steve grumbled. "I didn't have a choice." His mobile phone buzzed on the table. "It's Sam," he said, checking the screen. "Probably calling to ask if you're staying for dinner. I'm going to wash the paint off my hands, I'll call him back after."

"Am I staying for dinner?" Bucky asked, dropping back down on the sofa. 

"Do you want to get laid tonight or not?" Steve called out from the bathroom.

"Yes!" Bucky called back. He unpaused Netflix and out his feet up on the coffee table. "Your phone's still ringing!" He called out a few minutes later, after Steve's phone had stopped and restarted the buzzing three times.

Steve poked out of the bathroom. He was lathered up to his elbows with something that smelled of soap and coffee. "Is it still Sam?"

"Yeah, looks like."

"Huh." Steve frowned. "Answer it, I'll be there in a minute." He disappeared back into the bathroom and Bucky picked up the phone.

"Hi Sam," he said. "What's up-"

"Where's Steve?" Sam asked, voice hoarse and breaking. "I need to talk to Steve."

"Bathroom," Bucky told him. "What's wrong?"

Sam didn't answer. All Bucky heard were stifled sobs. 

"Sam?" he asked, alarmed. "Sam, what's wrong? Sam?" When no answer came, Bucky ran to the bathroom. "Steve, something's wrong."

"What?" Steve quickly rinsed his arms off and dried his palms on his trousers. He took the phone from Bucky. "Sam? Sam, are you there?"

Bucky wrapped his arms around himself, watching Steve anxiously and trying to listen in on the phonecall.

"Oh no," Steve said, face stricken. "Are you okay? Where are you? We'll be there as soon as we can, okay? Did you call your family? Okay, okay, I'm on my way."

"What is it?" 

"It's Riley," Steve said, steeling himself. "They were in an accident. It looks pretty bad."

"How bad?" Bucky asked, a chill running down his spine.

"I don't know, bad." Steve handed him back his phone and hastily dried himself off. "Let's go."

They found Sam in a waiting room on the third floor, wearing a hospital gown, his head bandaged and his arm in a cast and a sling. His other arm was hooked up to an IV. Riley's mum was with him.

"Sam!" Steve rushed over and Sam stood up to meet him, wrapping himself around Steve the moment he was within reach.

Sam only cried into Steve's shoulder, clutching him as hard as he could. 

"He's in surgery," Riley's mum told them, wiping her eyes. "We don't know... Not until he comes out," she sniffled, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," Bucky said, sitting with her. He hesitated, but then offered her his hand. "What happened?"

She just shook her head and cried, squeezing Bucky's hand so hard it hurt.

"Head on collision," Sam said, finally extracting himself from Steve. He sat next to Riley's mum, taking her other hand. Steve pushed the IV stand closer and then sat with him. "I woke up here. They told me they had to cut Riley out of the car and he's, he's," Sam's voice broke. "Critical condition. Might lose his other leg. Head injury, internal bleeding, broken ribs, other stuff." He sucked in a sharp breath. "It's Iraq all over again."

"He'll be okay," Steve said. "You hear me? He's going to be okay."

Sam didn't say anything, just stared at the floor.

"Are your parents coming?" Steve asked him.

"Morning," Sam answered. 

"What about your siblings? Riley's?"

"They're on their way," Riley's mum said. "Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom." She stood up shakily, so Bucky sprang to his feet to support her.

There was nothing to do but wait. Updates on Riley's condition were sparse, but a nurse stopped by to give Sam a dose of pain medication and to give Riley's mum something calming.

Steve did everything he could not to show his own fear and anxiety, trying instead to be a pillar of strength for Sam to lean on. Bucky could see how hard he was pinching himself, the set of his jaw and desperation in his eyes. When they weren't waiting in silence, Steve spoke to Sam and Riley's mum in soft, reassuring tones, repeating over and over again that Riley would be fine.

Bucky kept everyone in a steady supply of shitty hospital coffee. Around nine, when everyone was visibly flagging and Steve was getting more and more frayed under his calm exterior, he went on a food run and came back with ham and cheese sandwiches. Sam and Steve wolfed theirs down, much to Bucky's surprise - until he remembered that Sam was a vet and probably knew a thing or two about eating and keeping up strength - but Riley's mum only picked hers apart and then finally ate the ham slices once Steve had convinced her she had to eat something.

It was hours before there were news. "He's going to pull through" were the only words that mattered. Sam crumpled with relief, and Riley's mum started crying again. The knot in Bucky's chest slowly dissolved, and Steve let out an audible breath, then pulled himself back together.

"We're keeping him in a medically induced coma the next couple of days," the doctor told them. "We had to operate on him to prevent pressure from building up inside his skull, but he's stabilised and should recuperate from his head injury completely. We don't believe there was damage to the brain. His right lung collapsed and his small intestine was perforated, but there was no other serious damage to his abdominal region. We took out his appendix while we were at it," she added, with a small smile. "It is still uncertain whether we can save his leg. We are doing everything we can, but we may have to amputate."

Sam shook his head, then laughed, loud and hysteric.

"What?" Bucky whispered, looking at Steve for answers, but Steve shook his head.

"There isn't an elevator in our building," Sam said, trying to stop laughing.

"Let's not worry about that now," Riley's mum said. "Can we see him?"

"Family only," the doctor told her. "He's unresponsive, but you can talk to him. Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes?" Sam looked up. 

"You can speak to the desk about staying with your husband until you are released," she said. "If you come with me I'll show you to his ward."

Sam stood up, clutching the IV stand. "Thank you," he said, lip wobbling.

"I'll, we'll come back tomorrow as soon as we can," Steve told Sam. "I'll bring you a change of clothes. Do you need anything, ma'am?" 

"No," Riley's mum said. "My daughter will be here soon. You can go home." She hugged Steve, and then, surprisingly, Bucky. "Thank you for coming."

"Steve," Sam started, but his voice broke. Instead he clutched Steve close for a moment. 

"Go," Steve told him. "Go be with Riley. I'll see you tomorrow."

Sam nodded, then turned abruptly. The doctor led them down the hallway she came from.

"Shit," Steve said, once they were out of sight, and collapsed back in the chair. He took his glasses off and hid his face in his hands, letting out a quiet sob.

Bucky sat with him, putting his arm around Steve's shoulders and pulling him close. "I know," he said softly. "They're my friends too."

Steve only nodded, but didn't stop crying. His shoulders shook, sobs wracking his entire body. All Bucky could do was hold him and let him cry, pressing kisses into his hair. He didn't know what to say.

Eventually, the sobs subsided and Steve sat up, sniffling and wiping his face on his shirt sleeves. "I'm sorry," he said, voice thick. "I didn't - I couldn't, not when Sam..." He sniffled. "They've not been married a week, you know?"

"I know," Bucky said. "You were amazing. Sam's lucky to have your friendship. Are you feeling better?"

"A little." Steve leaned back, drawing a couple of slow, deep breaths. "Do you have my inhaler?" 

Bucky patted his jacket down, then Steve's, and came up with the inhaler. Steve pushed the button once, then twice, breathing deeply. 

"Makes me feel better," he explained. "Wasn't having an attack or anything. Jus' makes breathing easier."

"I think I'd have noticed if you were having an attack," Bucky said. "Are you okay now?"

"Yeah. Mostly. Sorry," Steve sighed. "It was just such a... Shock."

"I know." Bucky rubbed the small of his back. "Are you ready to go home?"

Steve shook his head. "I don't think I can drive right now."

"Okay." Bucky nodded. "How about we go to the washroom and get you some cold water for your face, and then we go to the diner across the street? We can get milkshakes."

"Yeah. Yeah, let's do that." Steve nodded, getting to his feet. 

Bucky picked up Steve's glasses and their jackets, then led Steve to the washroom.

Later, after an hour in the diner with milkshakes and burgers, Steve was fast asleep in his bed. Exhaustion had gotten the better of him within seconds, but Bucky lay awake for a long time watching him sleep and listening to him breathe.

***

The first thing Steve said in the morning was: "I'm dropping my summer classes." He sat up in bed, knees drawn up, and should by all rights be his usual barely awake pre-coffee grumpy morning self, but he didn't seem to be. His alarm was also still ringing, which meant the bed felt like it was shaking apart, but Steve was ignoring it.

"Okay," Bucky said, reaching over to shut off the alarm. "I thought your classes would be over next week."

"Yes, but I don't want to finish them. I don't want to go. I don't want those credits."

"Thought you only hated the oil painting class."

Steve shrugged. 

"Doesn't that mean you can't graduate this winter?" Bucky then asked.

"So I'll graduate next summer instead," Steve said. 

Bucky sat up, shuffling over to Steve. He nudged him with his shoulder. "What's this about?"

"I just don't want to do those classes. My time is better spent working on my own projects."

"And this has nothing to do with what happened yesterday?" Bucky asked gently.

Steve shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"I'm going to call in sick today and go with you to the hospital."

"You don't have to do that," Steve said, turning look at him. "Don't you have the late shift?"

"Yes," Bucky answered. "But I wanted to make myself available to you today in case you need me."

Steve dropped his chin on his knees.

"Besides, I've never had a sick day. Might as well take one now." He kissed Steve's shoulder and then crawled out of bed. "I'm gonna go make coffee and breakfast. Come join me when you get hungry."

Bucky called Gabe to let him know he wouldn't be coming in, and then he called Natasha.

"Good morning, sunshine," he told her, filling coffee into the machine. 

"It's too damn early for you to be calling me," Natasha said.

"I know. Listen, I'll probably be staying with Steve the next few days. Sam and Riley had an accident yesterday, they're in hospital right now -"

"Are they all right?"

"They will be," Bucky said. He turned the coffee machine on and turned towards the fridge, looking for something edible. "Riley's in coma, but the doctors say he will be fine."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's pretty tough. Steve's rather shaken, so... I'm staying here."

"And you?" Natasha asked. "They're your friends too. Have to be, what with all the time you spend over there."

"I'm okay," Bucky said. He found eggs and bacon in the fridge, and then a carton of pancake batter. He put all three items on the counter.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No." Bucky said, closing the fridge. He decided a change of topic would be in order. "How are things with Clint?"

Natasha sighed. "I know what you're doing."

"Well?" Bucky dug out the frying pan from a cupboard overcrowded with pots and pans and casseroles.

"Could've been better," she said. "We're actually considering therapy." 

Bucky nearly dropped the frying pan. " _What_?"

"We had a chat. We both agreed this is something we want, and that maybe we need a little help to make it work," she said. "Eight years, James. That's worth fighting for, I think."

"Eight years on-off," Bucky corrected her.

"Yeah, time to put a stop to that nonsense," Natasha said, with a little sigh. "So, that's that!"

"Cool. I hope you can make it work," Bucky said. "I'm gonna go now. I'm making breakfast."

"Talk to you later," Natasha said and made smooching sounds. "Well-wishes to Sam and Riley."

"I'll pass them on." Bucky hung up and turned to the stove. 

He quickly realised he was going to need, like, six arms. He found another frying pan, and then set to frying bacon and pancakes. 

Steve showed up about when the coffee machine was finished, dressed and with damp hair. 

"Food will be ready in a bit," Bucky told him, cracking eggs into the pan that he'd used to make bacon. 

"Yeah," Steve said and wrapped his arms around Bucky from behind, pressing his face against his back. 

"You okay back there?"

Steve nodded.

"So…do you want me to stick around for the day?"

Another nod. 

"Good. I already called Gabe," Bucky told him. He pushed the plate with pancakes aside. "Nat says hi, by the way."

"Oh." Steve unwrapped himself and started carrying the food to the table. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" Bucky asked him.

"Yeah," Steve said. "I'll do the dishes while you shower."

"Okay." Bucky flipped the eggs onto a plate and set it on the table. He poured them both coffee. 

Steve was staring at all the food on the table. "That's... A lot of food."

"I'm hungry," Bucky said. "In no way did I make a calculation error."

"Hm," Steve said, forking over some eggs. He was smiling a little.

"I want to stop and get flowers on the way," Bucky said.

"Flowers?" 

"And a card." 

Steve smiled wider. "Okay."

***

"What is that?" Bucky asked, staring at something that looked a lot like a drowned rat. It was wrapped in a purple towel. It _meowed_. "Is that a _cat_?"

"I rescued it," Natasha said.

"...is it staying?"

Natasha gave him a look. "Don't be stupid. It's probably chipped. I'm taking it to the vet once Clint has picked me up."

"Yeah okay, whatever," Bucky said, going into his bedroom. Natasha followed, towel-and-fur bundle in her arms. "I only came by to shower and pick up some clothes."

"How's...everyone?"

"Riley woke up this morning," Bucky told her. He emptied half his closet into an overnight bag. "Steve's at the hospital, I'm meeting him there."

"Are you okay? You look a little frazzled."

"Yeah, I'm okay. It's just." He shrugged. "Been a little stressful, is all. Should get better now."

"Mmh. You've got motor oil in your hair," Natasha said. 

"I _know_ ," Bucky said, grimacing.

He found Steve outside the hospital, sitting on a park bench and looking more miserable than the drowned rat cat.

"Hey," he said. "What's up?"

"Do you sometimes feel like everything around you is burning and you just have a small firehose and it doesn't make a difference?" Steve asked.

"Uh, yeah," Bucky said and sat down next to Steve, close enough for their shoulders to touch. "I think the last week has been pretty much that."

Steve nodded. "Peggy called me an hour ago," he said. "She's getting a divorce."

"Oh."

"Yeah. She's pretty upset." Steve sighed. "She said it was mutual, but..."

"So, uhm. Are you getting back together?" Bucky asked.

Steve laughed. "No. Oh, no." He shook his head, smiling fondly at Bucky. "That's really not a thing that's happening."

"Well..." Bucky shrugged awkwardly. "Thought I might as well ask."

"Look, even if we wanted to, I can't. It's the last thing I need right now," Steve said, reaching up to touch Bucky's jaw. "I need stability. All this shit's that's happened this summer, I..."

"I get it."

"Do you?" 

"At the risk of sounding bitter, yeah-"

"No, not like that," Steve said, holding Bucky's face in his hands. "Not at _all_ like that. Please don't think that's all you are to me. I love you. The thing that I'm most scared of right now is _losing you_ , okay? I'm terrified."

Bucky swallowed thickly. "I'm not leaving," he said. "I'm sorry I -" He was interrupted by Steve throwing his arms around his neck. He was shaking, and Bucky realised he was trying to hold back sobs. "Hey, I'm sorry, Steve hey. Steve. Don't cry."

"I'm sorry," Steve said, voice hitching. "I'm sorry, I thought, I'm sorry."

"Steve," Bucky said, grabbing his wrists and pushing him away just far enough that he could see his face. "Let's get a few things straight here."

"Yeah, okay," Steve answered, his eyes wide in fear. "Like what?"

"So, we're both sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, you didn't mean to scare me. Is that right?" 

"Yeah," Steve breathed. "I think so."

Bucky released his wrists to squeeze his hands instead. "I love you very much," he said gently. "And you've made it clear you love me just as much, yeah?"

"Yeah." Steve nodded. His breathing was coming a little easier now.

"Okay," Bucky said, pressing a brief kiss to his lips. "I think we should probably have a talk later about all this. Not now, probably not today either, but later. Is that okay?"

Steve nodded again. "Yeah." He drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "I don't want to drive you away from me, I don't -"

"I'm not going anywhere, okay? I promise. I'm sorry I worried you, I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. Not here, not now, okay, that's on me. We'll talk later. I promise." Bucky squeezed his hands again. "We're both afraid, okay? We've had a shit time of it, and you've had nightmares all week."

"Yeah," Steve said. "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"I know, I can't either. But neither of us is going anywhere. So... Let's just go see how Riley's doing? I've been anxious all day. I need to see his ugly mug."

"Okay, yeah," Steve said, chuckling lightly. He leaned into Bucky, who put his arm around him. "I'm glad you're here. I'm really, really glad you're here."

Bucky gave him a soft smile. "Tell me about Riley. How is he?"

"Tired. Docs said they're going to amputate. Below knee. His leg's a mess, he would never be able to walk on it anyway," Steve said. "But he was joking with Sam when I left, so I think they're going to be okay."

"Of course they're going to be okay," Bucky said. He squeezed Steve's knee. "Come on, let's go see how they're doing."

"We don't have an elevator in our building,"Steve said, but got to his feet.

"Maybe he'll get prosthetics this time," Bucky said, walking him inside. "They'll work it out." 

Steve stopped just before the elevators. "Before we go up, tell me some good news. Something honest to god _good_."

"I showered?" Bucky said and Steve snorted. "Sorry. That's all I've got."

"I'll take what I can get," Steve said. He smiled. "You even shaved."

"That makes two good things," Bucky told him, smiling back.

His phone buzzed once, then twice, so he fished it out of his pocket. He had two texts, one from Monty and one from Natasha. 

_Rumlow's been released this morning. Good behaviour & on probation. Thought you should know._

Bucky faltered.

"What is it?" Steve asked. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It's nothing," Bucky said.

"Really."

"It's just. More bad news," Bucky sighed. "I'll tell you later."

"Spit it out," Steve ordered.

Bucky stared him down, but Steve was the undefeated champion of all stare contests, so Bucky lost. "Rumlow's out," he told him. "Just this morning. Seems he was released early for good behaviour."

"Shit," Steve said, squeezing his arm. He was squeezing too hard.

"We knew he would get out eventually," he said, tilting Steve's chin up. "Nothing's going to happen. He's not going to hurt me."

Steve didn't say anything, just moved closer like he was going to be Bucky's personal watchdog. Knowing Steve, that was exactly what was happening.

"Steve," Bucky said, squeezing his hand. "I need you to not worry about this. Can you do that? Nothing's going to happen to me."

"I can't help it."

"I know, but I want you to actually sleep at night."

Steve's jaw firmed stubbornly, but he didn't say anything. 

"Come over here," Bucky said, drawing Steve aside, so other people could get to the elevators. "I wanted to tell you something, cutiepie."

"You can't use that trick on me," Steve said, but he was smiling a little. 

"Don't you want to hear what I wanted to tell you?"

"Go ahead."

"There's something about you, _cutiepie_ ," Bucky said, emphasising the word to make Steve smile some more. It worked. "When you smile, really smile - yes, just like that, beautiful. A little more," Bucky said, touching Steve's face, thumb stroking his cheek. "Perfect. You almost have dimples. One, actually. Right here. If you know where to look, you can see it. But only when you smile like that."

"You're so ridiculous sometimes," Steve murmured. 

"It's true," Bucky said. "Every time I see that almost-dimple my heart skips a beat. You could try to listen for it sometime."

"Now I know you're making it up," Steve said, but he was smiling again. Then he huffed. "I don't know what to do with you."

"Just stop worrying for a while. I'm not above pleading if that's what it takes, but I'd rather sweet talk you into embarrassment so you'll just plain forget."

"Okay, okay. No worrying. Until tomorrow morning, or something."

"Deal." Bucky kissed him. He went back to his phone and forwarded Monty's text to Natasha, then opened the one she'd sent him. 

_i have a cat._

"Uh, do you have pet allergies?" Bucky asked him.

"No?" Steve gave him a strange look. "Why?"

"Natasha has a cat."

"What? You mean like right now? She just got a cat?"

A series of texts from Natasha buzzed in, one of which was a photo of the cat at the vet's (looking rather fluffy and dry as opposed to wet and sorry).

_im naming her mini me_  
 _shes coming home with me 2day_  
 _dont worry ill take care of the litterbox_  
 _shes the sweetest thing_

Bucky showed Steve the photo. "This thing she picked up from the street earlier."

Another text, and a photo of the cat in what looked like Clint's lap, came in from Natasha.

_sorry about rumlow so im just gonna distract you all day with cat photos_

"It looks cute," Steve said. "I suppose."

"It stays out of my bedroom," Bucky said, texting Natasha back to tell her as much.

Riley was awake and happy to see them. Even more so when Bucky told him about Natasha's cat and broke a couple of hospital rules to show him the photos.

The photos kept coming all afternoon and evening, and Steve didn't leave Bucky's side.

***

Steve wandered into the bathroom, half asleep, without his glasses or hearing aids, which would turn out to be a mistake. He didn't bother turning the light on (another mistake), just flipped the lid of the toilet open and leaned over it to pee.

He didn't notice the little splashes of water at first. It was only when he was washing his hands and a handful of water was thrown at his back that he startled, turning around and seeing nothing in the dark. He found the light switch and flipped it on.

"What the hell?" He groused.

Natasha was in the bathtub. She gathered some foam to her front, eyebrow raised. 

Steve covered his eyes. "Who the fuck takes a bath at six in the fucking morning? In the _dark_?" he accused. 

"Natasha does, that's who," Bucky said, walking into the bathroom. He smooched Steve's cheek and then flipped up the lid of toilet.

"Do you guys _mind_? I'm in the bath," Natasha said, splashing water at Bucky.

"Yeah and I'm taking a piss," Bucky answered. "Protip: don't take a bath at six in the morning on a weekday."

Steve peered through his fingers, but when he saw that Natasha was definitely still in the bathtub, he closed them again.

"Get out," Natasha said.

"In a sec," Bucky said, running his hands under the tap.

Clint pushed the door open and stopped short, looking at all three of them in turns, bleary-eyed and with pillow creases on his face. He was naked, not even wearing his hearing aids. "Are we having a family meeting in the bathroom?"

He was evidently not waiting for an answer, because two seconds later Clint had dropped himself into the bathtub. Water splashed everywhere, waking up Natasha's cat which had apparently been curled up under the sink and now shot out of the bathroom like lightning. Natasha squealed and screamed bloody murder.

Steve and Bucky fled the scene.

***

Bucky let himself into Steve's flat and made his way to the kitchen, where Steve was making dinner.

"Hey," he said, sneaking up on him and slipping an arm round his waist. "How was your day?"

"Oh, hi." Steve turned to greet him with a kiss. "I had my cartooning class today, it was pretty cool. Then I went to the shop for a bit and had a couple of walk-ins." He indicated his left arm. "New tattoo as well."

"Can I see?" Bucky peered at the Saran Wrap.

"I'll show you later. How was your day?"

"Same old. I got to tinker with a really cool classic, though. And I have news." Bucky leaned back against the counter, just to the side of where Steve was chopping up vegetables. "Do you want the awesome news first or the even more awesome news?"

Steve pretended to consider this. "Hmm. Hit me with awesome."

"Awesome is: Nat's fundraiser is a go, which means I'm in need of a hot date." Bucky winked. "End of the month, the 27th. It's two weeks before comic con, so if you're too busy..."

"I'm not too busy for that," Steve told him with a smile. "That's great. Which building are they going for?"

"The brownstone."

"Oh, good. I liked that one." Steve gestured with the knife. "Some really great opportunities for murals in that one. Should be fun to work with." He looked up. "What's the even more awesome news?"

"The even more awesome news," Bucky grinned happily, "is that Becky's coming back home. My youngest sister," he explained. "She got a substitute teaching position at Brooklyn Elementary School as part of her job training and she's starting on Monday."

"Oh, that is awesome," Steve said, pausing his chopping. "You excited?"

"Hell yeah! Last time I saw her she was just a teenager. It'll be great. She wants to meet you, by the way." Bucky's smile faltered a little. "Do you want to meet her?"

"Of course I do. I want to meet all of your family some day." Steve reached up for a kiss. "When is she coming?"

"Thursday. I'm picking her up at the airport at three. You can come too if you want."

Steve shook his head. "I can't, I'm booked at the shop till eight. But I can meet you for dinner somewhere?"

"Yeah, that works too." Bucky was positively buzzing. "You'll like her. She's really cool." 

"If she's anything at all like you, I'm sure I'll like her."

"Mmh. Want some help with dinner?"

"No, I want you to shower. You smell of motor oil and car exhaust." Steve wrinkled his nose. "And dirt."

"My sexiest qualities," Bucky grinned and smooched his cheek. "I'll go shower. Just wanted to talk to you first."

"Mh. Oh, by the way. I promised the internet I'd do a livestream tonight," Steve said, shrugging. Maybe a little nervous.

"Livestream?" 

"Yeah. I'll be drawing the cover for chapter three. Well, the lineart. The colouring is going to take forever, so I'm doing that later..." Steve picked up a pepper and started slicing it in half. "I thought it would be fun."

"How does that work?" Bucky frowned. "Is the internet going to watch you draw? How?"

"There's a programme for it. There's a chat and a webcam option and music option and stuff, so..." Steve looked up. "I haven't done it before, but I thought it would be a cool thing to do. You can watch, too, but I dunno how fun it would be for you."

Bucky considered this. "Does this mean I get to embarrass you in front of the internet by kissing you on webcam?"

"No." Steve gave him a look. "But you can totally hang out in the background and make me look cool." He smiled. "Flex some muscle or something."

"I see what this is about," Bucky said, tapping his nose. "I _see_."

Steve laughed. "Go shower."

About twenty minutes into Steve's livestream Bucky got bored. 

"Can I borrow your tablet?" 

"Go ahead." Steve didn't look away from the screen, but he put the pen down briefly to type something into the chat. 

Bucky reached over to snatch the tablet, then settled back on the bed. "Send me the link to the livestream thing," he said, flipping it open.

"Just go to the first bookmarked page, there should be a link there." 

Half a minute later Bucky had signed into the livestream chat under the handle **15thpresident**.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked precisely two seconds later.

"I'm being a supportive boyfriend," Bucky answered and typed _isnt he dreamy_. He hit enter.

Steve glanced at the chat window. "You aren't serious."

"Totally," Bucky said. "I'm not gonna troll anyone, stop looking so constipated. Go back to drawing your horse or whatever it is."

"Acid spewing unicorn," Steve corrected. "I decided to introduce a new race of evil misunderstood creatures."

"And you went with acid spewing unicorns." 

"Yeah." Steve shrugged and turned back to the screen. He was still sketching, moving some elements around every now and then, and hadn't yet decided where to put in the hero of the comic. "They're cooler than trolls."

 **15thpresident** : the only known enemy of the acid spewing unicorn is the gremlin  
 **15thpresident** : trufax  
 **Steve Rogers** : The unicorns won. Remember?  
 **15thpresident** : thats what u think

"No trolling," Steve said.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

 **15thpresident** : how do i begin to explain steve rogers?  
 **15thpresident** : steve rogers is flawless  
 **15thpresident** : i hear his face is insured for like a billion  
 **pixie** : omg haha  
 **15thpresident** : i hear he does save homeless kittens commercials in germany  
 **15thpresident** : his favourite movie is any movie with lucy liu in it  
 **luctargaryen** : ofc  
 **15thpresident** : one time he met tyra banks on a plane  
 **15thpresident** : and she told him he was pretty  
 **15thpresident** : one time he punched me in the face… it was awesome  
 **Steve Rogers** : I've never been on a plane.

"I've never punched you in the face," Steve said. "I've never punched you at all."

 **15thpresident** : steve has never seen mean girls  
 **pixie** : omfg why not

"What's mean girls?"

"Only my sisters' favourite movie," Bucky answered. "Oh hey, Steve, can I tell them the vibrator story?"

"No!"

 **Steve Rogers** : Which costume would you like to see on the cover?  
 **wolfboy** : the red one!!  
 **pixie** : i like the old school one  
 **luctargaryen** : i'm not fussed  
 **15thpresident** : the birthday suit  
 **pixie** : lol there's no birthday suit  
 **pixie** : oh wait  
 **15thpresident** : i vote steve takes his shirt off  
 **Steve Rogers** : Steve is not taking his shirt off.  
 **15thpresident** : i have it on good authority that steve is 110% dreamier without his shirt on  
 **pixie** : dude who are you lol

Bucky raised his arm up and waved. Steve turned around to give him an exasperated look. 

"I'm going to turn the webcam off."

 **15thpresident** : steve is threatening to turn the webcam off its your time to shine  
 **15thpresident** : mutiny  
 **15thpresident** btw that was totally me back there  
 **pixie** : i don't believe you haha  
 **15thpresident** : ill prove it just watch imma smooch steves face

"You are not going to smooch my face," Steve said, just as Bucky got up. "There are 34 people watching." 

"Just a little smooch," Bucky said, resting his chin on Steve's shoulder. "Like, a peck. A tiny one. On the cheek. I'll even beg with the puppy eyes if I have to."

Steve made the mistake of turning his head to look at him. "You're a ridiculous person." His eyes softened and he was actually smiling.

"I've no shame in admitting it." Bucky grinned. "I'll leave you alone. If you're _really_ sure you don't want a kiss."

"Make it quick," Steve said and Bucky shot forwards to plant a kiss on his lips. 

"Put some music on," Bucky said, settling back on the bed again. "I'm gonna talk to your fans some more."

"I'm going to minimise the chat window," Steve muttered. "I think I'd rather not know what's going on." 

"Nothing incriminating," Bucky promised. "I'm just gonna read your comic maybe."

"You don't have to read it."

"I want to. I want to know how acid spewing unicorns are going to figure in it," Bucky argued. "Because that's fucking awesome."

"Spoiler: the evil scientist made them."

"I'm on board with that." 

Steve just shook his head and went back to the cover. He started sketching in the hero. 

**15thpresident** : the dreamiest amiright

**Author's Note:**

> There's a third part coming, but due to IRL it's been delayed more than I'd have liked. My sincere apologies to those whom I've promised the third and concluding part would be here before the end of the year - it's likely it won't be finished until sometime next year. I'm aiming for March, though ideally it'll be finished and posted already in January. I'm sorry! There _will_ be more, it's just slow going.


End file.
